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The College Chap 

A Comedy-Drama in Three Acts 



By 
HARRY L. NEWTON 

and 

JOHN PIERRE ROCHE 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO, 

1911 



The College Chap ; 



CHARACTERS 

Elijah Gooding, a village product. 

Seth Hines, just as tired. 

Art Wimpel, chief clerk, Occidental Hotel. 

Samuel Crane, proprietor of the Occidental Hotel. 

Starr Clay, promoter of Jay I. C. Trolley Line. 

Bart Eaton, factotum of the "Clarion." 

John Drew Irving, advance agent and drummer. 

Will Sellum, a traveling salesman. 

Bill, a bell-boy. 

George, another. 

Dave Crane, the college chap. 

Sallie Crane, in love with Art. 

Mrs. Jane Crane, the mother. 

Madge Clay, the girl. 

Gertie Flye, the news-stand girl. 

Mrs. Mortimer Jones-Brown, a progressive woman. 

Mrs. Heziah Jenks, of the Chester Culture Club. 

Miss Margaret Seymour, secretary of Chester Culture Club. 

Place. — Chester, Minnesota. 
Time.— The Present. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I.— Office of the Occidental Hotel. 

Act II. — Office of the Chester Clarion, six months later. 

Act III.— Office of the Occidental Hotel, eight months later. 




Copyright, 191 i, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
TMP96-007191 

GOLD 24870 



CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES 

Elijah Gooding and Seth Hines. Men of about fifty-five 
and sixty respectively; typical village loafers and shabbily 
dressed. Very lazy in speech and action. As they have 
merely a "bit" in Act I, their parts maybe "doubled" to 
Bart Eaton and John Drew Irving. 

Art Wimpel. Youth of about twenty or twenty-one. 
Bright and breezy in speech and action ; a whole-souled, 
warm-hearted chap and madly in love with Sallie. In Act I 
dresses in cheap but rather flashy suit and straw hat. In Act 
II wears heavy overcoat, cap and muffler. In Act III, stylish 
suit, loud shirt and tie, turned up trousers and straw hat. 

Samuel Crane. Man of about sixty, smooth shaven, 
healthy complexion, and iron-gray hair. Rather slow and 
drawling in speech and gentle spoken, evincing in every action 
a lovable disposition. In Act I his clothing shows signs of 
much wear. In Act II he is garbed in winter clothing, also 
much the worse for wear. In Act III his appearance is de- 
cidedly more prosperous looking. 

Starr Clay. Man of about fifty-five, tall and slightly stoop- 
shouldered, smooth shaven and gray hair. Is harsh and 
abrupt in manner, and talks in jerky fashion, altogether busi- 
nesslike. In Acts I and II his dress suggests the prosperous, 
small town business man's. In Act III he wears overalls, blue 
shirt, and old cap and carries red bandana handkerchief. His 
manner and speech in Act III is, however, greatly modified 
and he must portray to the audience that his character has 
undergone a great change. 

Bart Eaton. About forty years of age and quite deaf. 
Wears chin whiskers and rather long hair ; speaks with Yankee 
dialect. In Act I wears light summer clothing and straw hat. 
In Act II winter clothing. As he has nothing in Act III he 
can be "doubled " to play Will Sellum if desired. 

John Drew Irving. Man of about thirty-five or forty. Part 
should be played by a large, portly person, florid of face and 
smooth shaven. Is cheery in speech and action and a fast 
talker. His appearance should suggest that of one who desired 
to make a good " front" on a small income, especially in Acts 



4 CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES 

I and II. In Act III he is supposed to be in better circum- 
stances and shows it in dress. 

Will Sellum. A typical traveling salesman, aged twenty- 
eight or thirty. In Act III he has " finished " the town and 
is merely loafing about until his train time ; indicating that he 
is quite bored with everything. He also shows signs of in- 
toxication, but must be careful not to overdo it. 

Bill and George. Typical uniformed bell-boys. 

Dave Crane. Youth of about twenty-three or twenty-four, 
affecting the latest craze in style in Act I, but more subdued in 
other two acts. A close study of the speeches and lines in 
part should give the performer a good idea of the sort of char- 
acter the authors have in mind. Only in Act I should he be 
" flip " or careless, and then only until his scene with Madge, 
after that he is sincere in manner, but not at any time intensely 
dramatic, except his scene with Starr Clay in Act II. Dave 
Crane is a splendid juvenile part if proper care is taken that 
it be not overacted or approaches the heroic. 

Sallie Crane. Soubrette part; aged eighteen. Very 
simple and girlish in speech and manner ; warm-hearted and 
impulsive. In Act I wears a simple white summer dress. In 
Act II neat winter clothing. In Act III her dress is slightly 
more pretentious, but not extravagant. 

Jane Crane. A kindly, motherly soul of about fifty. 
Dresses rather old-fashionedly. Has snow white hair and 
healthy complexion. 

Madge Clay. A rather high-spirited maiden of eighteen 
or twenty years. Wears expensive summer gown in Act I and 
handsome winter clothing and furs in Act II. In Act III a 
more simple traveling costume at first entrance, then changes to 
simple afternoon gown. In playing the character, it should be 
borne in mind that she is really in love with Dave at all times, 
and must be careful not to lose the sympathy of the audience 
in her scenes with Dave, in which she reprimands him. 

Gertie Flye. A slangy girl of eighteen, affecting latest 
style in hair-dressing, etc. Warm-hearted and impulsive dis- 
position underlies her affected carelessness, and care should be 
taken in delivering the two or three lines of pathos she has, 
especially : " Gee, I hope he wins." Which must show that 
her love for Dave is sincere, but that she is noble-hearted 
enough to realize that he is not for her. 

Mrs. Mortimer Jones Brown. A haughty appearing, 
handsome woman of thirty-two or thirty-three. Has plenty of 



CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES 5 

money, looks it and doesn't care who knows it. Is nervous in 
manner and voluble in speech. 

Mrs. Heziah Jenks. A plump little woman of about 
twenty-five, finicky in dress and manner and "long" on 
culture. 

Miss Margaret Seymour. A prepossessing maiden of 
nineteen. She wears handsome, stylish clothes in summer and 
winter effects. As she has nothing in Act III her part can be 
" doubled " with Gertie Flye. 



The College Chap 



ACT I 

SCENE.— Interior of the office of the Occidental Hotel, 
Chester, Minn. ; full stage, box setting. Practical doors 
l. and r. Door at back, right of c. At back l. is counter, 
small cigar case at one end, hotel register, etc. At l. is 
zv ash-bench with two tin basins, soap, soiled roller towel, 
etc. Right of C, down stage, are two chairs and rickety 
kitchen table on which is a checker-board with checkers. 
Small writing table at extreme r. In front of table small 
stool with legs tied about with wire. On wall back of 
counter is an old clock, one hand missing. Right of clock 
large soiled railroad map. The whole effect must be of 
gejieral dilapidation. 

{At rise, discovered Elijah Goodings and Seth Hines 
seated at table right of c. They both stare fixedly at 
checker-board but make no move to touch the men. This 
pose must be held for a full half minute before a ivord is 
spoken, then.) 

Eli. (in slow drawl). It's your move, Seth. 
Seth (after pause of ten seconds, with even slower drawl). 
So 'tis, Elijah. 

( With his index finger he pushes a checker with immense 
deliberation.') 

Eli. (after another pause). It appears to me, Seth, that 
this checker match ain't arousin' any tremenjus enthusiasm. 

Seth (after still another pates e during which Eli. moves). 
No, it ain't. Funny, too, seeing as how it's fer the town cham- 
pionship. I guess the whole town's gone jes' plumb crazy over 
that new-fangled croquet they're playin' in Si Stebbins' pasture. 

Eli. Oh, you mean golloluf. 

Enter Art Wimpel, in bustling fashion, door r. 

7 



8 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Art. Hello ! What little stunt are you boys up to now ? 

Eli. Checkers. 

Art {sarcastically). Oh, is that so? I thought you were 
doing a skirt dance on the top of a hard-boiled egg or white- 
washing a tent. Howsomever, if it's checkers {pointing sug- 
gestively at door l.) I guess it's your move. The Law and 
Order League of Chester don't allow no games of chance. The 
Occidental is a hotel, not a gambling house. 

Seth. Gambling? You don't see any money in sight, do 
you? 

Art {laughing and going back of counter). Nope ; don't see 
any there or anywhere else around this shebang. Couldn't be 
doing less business if we were quarantined for smallpox. 
{Here Seth and Eli. return to their absorption in checker 
game.) At present we have one boarder, and if he knew he 
was alive he'd move. Last week we nearly had a drummer — 
said he wanted a quiet spot. Oh, this is a fine hotel — keeps a 
man busy {slamming register shut in disgust) doing nothing ! 
{Turns to Seth and Ell) Say, hadn't you boys better run 
along home ? You'll be late for dinner. Besides, you're burn- 
ing up the furniture with that hotly contested game. {They 
pay ?io attentiofi to him.) Well, 1 guess I'll sweep up. {In 
disgust he commences to sweep vigorously, raising a cloud of 
dust. Seth and Eli. cough in protest.) We might get a 
guest. (Seth and Ell laugh derisively.) I said we might I 

Enter Sallie Crane in breathless fashion through door l., 
ivaving letter in hand, 

Sallie. Goody, goody, goody ! Oh, Art, what do you 
think? 

Art. Well, I'd hate to tell a lady what I'm thinking just 
now. 

Sallie {disregarding him). Dave's coming — coming home, 
here, on the one- ten. Oh, Art, you just can't think how good 
it seems to have one's big brother back after he's been a whole 
year at college. But he's finished now for good and ever. 
{Does a little dance of joy.) But where's mother? 

(Art points at door r. Sallie runs off, leaving Art look- 
ing after her in dazed fashion.) 

Art. Humph, don't know why I should feel glad. {Starts 
sweeping to relieve his feelings.) I suppose that means I lose 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 9 

this job. {Throws broo?n down in anger.) Gee ! things roll 
pretty soft for some folks ! There's Dave — four years at a 
bang-up Eastern college, spending a barrel of money so he can 
come back and lord it all over us. By George, it don't seem 
fair, that's all ! 

Seth. Did she say Dave's coming back ? 

Art. Yes. 

Eli. Well, don't you worry. He won't lord it over no- 
body. Never did amount to nothing and never will ; and I 
guess everybody in this town knows it, too — except his maw 
and paw. 

Art. Oh, Dave ain't so bad — he's got his good points ! 

Seth. Humph, nobody ain't discovered them, as I heard 
of. 

Art. Well, he's the swellest dresser ever came to this 
town ! 

Eli. Yes, but who pays for his fine fixin's ? 

Seth. Why, his paw does, and he can't afford to, nuther ! 

Art {picking up broom and brandishing it menacingly). 
Now that will be about all of that. I never see either of you 
working nights. And you are not going to sit around here and 
knock Dave, so just git. 

{Advances toward them threateningly. Eli. and Seth arise 
and make for door l. with as much dignity as possible. 
At the door they stop. ) 

Eli. Well, we'll go, but not because we're afraid of you. 
( With crushing scorn.) We ain't goin' to form no welcoming 
committee for any shiftless ne'er-do-well. 

Seth. No, siree ! Dave may be able to pull the wool over 
his folks' eyes, but he can't fool us by a durn sight ! 

(Seth and Eli. both exeunt hurriedly. Art throws the broom 
at them, but it falls short.) 

Enter Sallie, door r. 
■ 

Sallie. Why, Art, what's the matter ? 
Art. Matter ! Those two old moss-grown fossils there — 
they said your brother 

{Stops in confusion and picking up broom puts it in corner.) 

Sallie. Yes ? 

Art. Oh, nothing; they just said he wasn't worth his salt, 



10 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

and that everybody but you knew it — that he was wasting his 
time at college and spending your father's money on fine 
clothes. 

Sallie {pained). Oh, how could they ? And poor Dave's 
been studying so hard. Why, he just has to keep paying the 
bookmakers money all the time. 

Art. Oh, they're just jealous, that's all. I tell you, Sallie, 
I'm glad that Dave's coming back (pausing), even if I do lose 
my job on account of it. 

Sallie (wondering). Lose your job? 

Art. Sure. I guess you won't want any extra help around 
here (hopefully), unless business picks up. 

Sallie. Oh, Art, you don't think that Dave is going to 
clerk here after graduating from Yale. Why, didn't you know 
that over a year ago Mr. Williams offered him the editorship of 
the Clarion ? 

Art (gleefully). Honest ? And then I won't have to leave 
here — and you, Sallie. 

Sallie (gently). Why, Art ! 

Art. Well, Sallie, you know I love you — have loved you 
and intend to keep right on loving you until, until — well, until 
everything blows up. (Art takes Sallie's hand. Here enter 
Bart Eaton, door l. Art looks at him in disgust and drops 
Sallie's hand.) Just think of having only one boarder, and 
then for him to come in at a time like this. ( Wearily.) Can 
you beat it ? 

( With great unconcern and without any greeting Bart goes 
over to wash-stand, removes coat, rolls up sleeves, and 
proceeds to make his toilet.) 

Sallie. Art, do you really love me ? 

Art. Do I really ? Why, say 

Sallie. Then get right to work and make this office look 
just as nice as you can, for Dave will be here on the one- ten. 
And now I must go and get into my best bib and tucker. 

[Exit Sallie, through door r. 

Art (surveying office with disgusted expression). " As nice 
as I can." I reckon it would take half a million dollars to 
make this office look like anything ; and nobody around here 
has got any part of thirty cents 1 (Bart, in the meantime, is 
washing his face in his hands, the process being accompanied 
by a great deal of noise. Art looks at him.) Aha, I see our 



THE COLLEGE CHAP II 

boarder is washing its face, and making a noise like a trained 
seal, too! 

Enter Samuel Crane, through door l. 

Sam. {going over to counter and looking at register). Any- 
body come ? 

Art {pointing at Bart, who has finished washing and gone 
over to small writing table l., ivhere he is playing solitaire). 
Yes, it's here. 

Sam. No, no. I mean did we get any one from the south- 
bound ? 

Art. Nope. I suppose they all went to the Van Avery, the 
same as per usual. 

Sam. Yes, I suppose they did. I guess we ain't up to snuff 
like the Van Avery folks. I can't blame them much for not 
wanting to stop here. {Then more brightly.) But we'll have 
one arrival to-day, Art {rapturously) ; my boy Dave ! Has 
Mr. Clay been here this morning ? 

Art. No, sir. 

Sam. He said he'd be here about this time. {Looks up 
at clock which has stopped and then takes out silver turnip 
watch.) We must have that clock fixed some time. 

Art {dryly). Yes, some day when we get time. 

Sam. There are a couple of things I want to speak to Clay 
about, that Jay I. C. stock especially. I tell you, my boy, if 
the Jay I. C. trolley line goes through here and the stock 
goes up as Starr Clay says it will, we'll make this hotel one that 
we can all be proud of. 

Enter Mrs. Crane through door r. c, carrying scrub pail 
and mop rag. She starts to wash off counter. Art 
comes round from back of counter and takes cloth from 
her. 

Art. Here, let me do that, Mrs. Crane. 

{She protests.) 

Mrs. C. Why, no, Art, this is a woman's work. 

Art. Well, maybe so; but I promised some one to do it 
and I'm going to. 

Sam. Let Art do it, mother. You'll have to be getting 
fixed up for Dave. 

Mrs. C. {proudly). Yes — my boy ! 



12 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Sam. Yes, mother, our boy. {He pushes her gently toward 
door l.) Now run along, mother, and get slicked up. 

(Mrs. C. smiles at him and exits. Art runs cloth over 
counter three or four times perfunctorily and then stands 
off admiringly.') 

Art. How does that look ? 

Sam. Fine, my boy. Now just put the pail out of the way 
and run down to the post-office. There might be some mail. 

(Art puts pail hastily on top of counter, grabs hat from hook 
and dashes off through door r., colliding with Starr Clay 
as he enters. Etiter Clay, looking back angrily at Art. ) 

Clay. Confound that boy ! 

Sam. (apologetically). I'm sorry, Mr. Clay 

Clay (interrupting)* Sorry? I'm the one the boor ran 
into, not you ! 

Sam. Have a chair ? 

Clay (testily). Thanks, I'll stand. (Looks meaningly at 
chair.) It's safer. (Pulls out papers from pocket.) Well, it 
is June ioth. I suppose you know that. And I suppose you 
are ready to meet this note on your installment of stock? 

Sam. (hesitatingly). Well, of course, Mr. Clay, this comes 
rather sudden-like. You see I've been under heavy expense 
with Dave at college. 

Clay (abruptly). Mr. Crane, I came here to collect money, 
not to listen to any family troubles. Business is business. 

Sam. Certainly, Starr. But seeing we have been lifelong 
neighbors, I thought you might extend the time a leetle. 

Clay. That's all right, Sam, but money talks. We can't 
put a trolley line through to St. Paul on promises. The sooner 
it is completed the sooner the dividends. 

Sam. Certainly, Starr, certainly. But business ain't been 
very lively. I've been hoping it would pick up (proudly), 
and now that Dave's back 

Clay (interrupting). I sold the stock to you, not your son. 
Come, come — yes or no. 

Sam. I guess it will have to be no, Starr. You see I 
counted on your extending the time a bit. 

Clay. Oh, you did, eh? If you hadn't fooled your money 
away on that son of yours you'd be able to meet this note. I 
tell you this college business is all stuff and nonsense. I never 
went to college, but I got the money just the same. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 1 3 

Sam. (with quiet dignity). We won't talk about that, if you 
please, Starr. 

Clay. So you're not going to pay to-day? I'll tell you 
what I will do — I will give you just two weeks' time, and then 
— look out ! Good-day ! 

(Slaps papers into pocket, turns on his heel and exits through 
door L.) 

Enter Mrs. C, through door r. 

Mrs. C. Well, father, I am all ready for our boy. 

Sam. (looking at her admiringly and patting her cheek lov- 
ingly). There's only one thing I am afraid of, mother. 

Mrs. C. What's that, Sam ? 

Sam. That our boy won't be able to tell sister from mother, 
and mother from sister. 

Mrs. C. (blushing with pleasure). Oh, Sam ! 

Enter Madge Clay, through door L. 

Mrs. C. Oh, good-morning, Madge. 

Madge. Good-morning. How do you do, Mr. Crane ? 

Mrs. C. Oh, he's very fine to-day, Madge. My boy is 
coming. 

Sam. Yes, our boy is coming. 

Madge. Dave coming? (Shows agitation.) 

Mrs. C. Yes, dear. On the one-ten. Hasn't he written 
you? 

Madge (confusedly). No — not lately. 

Mrs. C. I suppose the dear boy has been too busy with his 
studies. 

Enter Sallie, through door r. 

Sallie. Oh, mother, have you seen my (Discovers 

Madge.) Why, Madge ! 

Madge. Hello, Sallie. I just ran over to see if you had 
this month's fashion journal. There's a love of a waist pattern 
in it. 

Mrs. C. You will have to excuse me, Madge. I have to 
see about the dinner. And, father, aren't you going to shave? 

Sam. (rubbing his face). Well, I guess I could take off a 
trifle without catching cold. 

(Mrs. C. exits through door R. c, and Sam. exits through 
door r.) 



14 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Sallie. I think I know the one you mean. It's that lovely 
Russian blouse effect with the embroidered yoke and the Irish 
lace jabot. But, Madge, I don't see what you want with any 
more clothes. Goodness, you have six times as many as any 
girl in town now. 

Madge (laughing). My dear, it's father, not I. He sim- 
ply insists that I keep the dressmaker busy. 

Sallie. Lucky girl. But come, and I will give you the 
pattern. Besides, I have just loads to tell you. 

Madge. Yes, I think I know what you mean. 

(Exeunt arm in arm through door R., chattering.') 

Enter Art, through door l., waving postal card. 

Art. Well, I've got the mail. I tell you it is some strain 
fetching the mail for the Occidental these days. (Looks at 
Bart.) What's that you said ? (To himself.) Lively little 
cricket, ain't he? 

Enter John Drew Irving, through door l., carrying suit case 
and with roll of theatrical dodgers under arm. 

John (breezily). Ah, good-morning, young man. (Goes 
to counter, places suit case on floor, bills on counter, and turns 
register toward him. Then looks about for pen.) Where's 
your pen ? 

Art. What for? 

John. I want to register. 

Art. Oh, pen you want? (Looks around.) Gee 1 I 
don't know whether — it was here last week. (Gropes in his 
pocket.) Pencil do? Thinking about stopping here ? 

(Hands him pencil, which John takes, and writes his name 
tuith a flourish.) 

John. Sure. I've got to stop somewhere, and it might as 
well be here. There we are — John Drew Irving, advance agent 
for the Brutus Franklin Repertoire Company, playing fourth 
consecutive season of forty consecutive weeks in that drama of 
moral uplift and power — Uncle Tom's Cabin. Company all 
ladies and gentlemen, swell dressers on and off. Our little Eva, 
sir, is a whiz — she's played the part for thirty years. Our 
bloodhounds are the most versatile animals that ever barked, 
and we furnish our own ice for each and every performance. 

Art. Hold on just a minute. Did I understand you to say 
that you were an advance agent ? 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 1 5 

John. I did, young man, I did. For the Brutus Franklin 
Repertoire Company, an aggregation of players endorsed by 
press and public, clergy and laity. I am, sir, as you say, an 
advance agent. 

Art. Well, just for that, you can put up in advance. 

John. Sir, do you mean to insult an artist? Ah, you 
need have no fear. 

Art. I know, but we need the money. 

John. Young man, I take your words in the jesting spirit 
you offer them. {Picks up one of the bills from counter and 
unrolls it.) Look, look and feast your eyes on the pictorial 
grandeur of a noteworthy enactment of a notable spectacle. 

Art. A dollar bill is about the noblest spectacle I want to 
see just now. 

John (commencing to tack up his bills on the walls). As a 
patron of the fine arts you can have no objection to my hang- 
ing up a few of these lithographic allurements. Behold the 
thespian feast the Brutus Franklin Repertoire Company is pre- 
pared to offer at prices so low that they are positively depress- 
ing ! (Goes to Bart.) My dear sir, it gives me more than 
an ordinary degree of pleasure to apprise you of the advent of 
a metropolitan entertainment of transcendent merit. My at- 
traction is nothing more or less than that classic of slavery — 
Uncle Tom's Cabin. 

Art {aside and referring to John). Quite a nice little 
talker. 

John (seeing that Bart pays ?io attention to him). Ah, sir, 
I see that you are busy. Allow me to present you one of our 
aesthetic posters to be perused at your (sarcastically) leisure, 
sir, your leisure. (Pins bill to Bart's coat collar ; then goes 
over to counter and picks up handbills. Then to Art.) I 
now depart, young man, on my noble mission of delighting the 
gaze of your townsmen. But I shall not dally to pick flowers 
by the wayside — the dinner gong shall find me here again. As 
to any mercenary consideration in advance you may rest easy. 
I shall not stay here long. 

Art. Humph, nobody does. (John makes sweeping bow 
and exits through door l. Art mimic ks John.) I shall not 
stay here long. Didn't take him much time to get next to this 
place. 

Enter Mrs. Mortimer Jones-Brown, Mrs. Heziah Jenks 
and M is Margaret Seymour, through door l. 



l6 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Mrs. J.-B. (to Mrs. J. and Miss S.). I don't really sup- 
pose there is any use in our seeking a donation here. 

Mrs. J. Dear, no {looking around with disgusted air) ; it 
is positively unsanitary. 

Miss S. Quite right, Mrs. Jenks. 

Mrs. J.-B. (to Art). Young man, is Mr. Crane in ? 

Art. Yep. 

Mrs. J.-B. (turning to Mrs. J. and Miss S.). I don't 
really suppose there is any use in seeing him, but we must 
make every effort for so noble a cause. 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Miss S. As you say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Mrs. J.-B. (to Art). Well, young man, I asked you if 
Mr. Crane was in. 

Art. I think I murmured something to the effect that he 
was. 

Mrs. J.-B. Then kindly go and tell him that I wish to see 
him at once. 

Art. Then kindly why didn't you say that at once? 

[Exit Art, through door r. 

Mrs. J.-B. That young man is entirely without culture. 
The working classes nowadays seem to have no sense of their 
hopeless inferiority. 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Miss S. As you say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

(Mrs. J.-B. discovers Bart. She tiptoes over to table r. 
and peers over his shoulder ; then tiptoes back to her 
companions.) 

Mrs. J.-B. (horrified). What do you think? That man 
is gambling — with himself ! 

(Mrs. J. and Miss S. repeat business and then come back to 
Mrs. J.-B.) 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 
Miss S. As you say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Enter Art, through door r. 

Art. Nothing doing. 

Mrs. J.-B. (shocked at the lack of reverence). What did 
you say, young man ? 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



17 



Art. I wafted the information that Mr. Crane has blown, — 
gone out, — not in. 

Mrs. J.-B. (with great scorn). Come, ladies. I, for one, 
refuse to stay any longer to be insulted by this person ! 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Miss S. As you say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

{All three turn and give Art a withering look. Then 
exeunt through door L.) 

Art (solus, looking after them). Humph, find Mr. Crane 
to hand over money to those lady high-brows ? I don't think ! 

(Mrs. C. opens dining-room door.) 

Mrs. C. You may call dinner now, Art. [Exit. 

(Art gets large dinner-bell from beneath counter and com- 
mences to ring it resoundingly, looking significantly the 
while at Bart. Then goes to Bart, and taking his ear- 
trumpet puts it to his ear and rings anew. Bart rises 
hurriedly, throwing cards in a heap. Art goes to dining- 
room door, still ringing bell and followed closely by Bart. 
Exeunt Art and Bart.) 

Enter Dave Crane, through door l., carrying suit case and bag. 
Looks about him for a moment then goes to c, where he 
deposits satchels, then goes over to writing table R. a fid sits 
on one comer, swinging his leg. He dratvs out cigar- 
ette case from pocket, takes out cigarette, lights it, takes a 
couple of deep inhales, then looks about the room with an 
air of extreme distaste for his surroundings. Then. 

Dave. Occidental Hotel, Chester, Minn. What a hole ! 
(Renews puffing on cigarette.) The man who wrote " Home 
Sweet Home" never saw this place. (Sighs.) Well, if I 
wanted a change I got it — got it strong ! (Looks around.) I 
wonder where is everybody. I can see I'm going to be a pleas- 
ant surprise, all right. And, gee ! what will I be when they 
discover that instead of having a nice gilt diploma I have been 
kicked out of college. (Tuffs at cigarette.) 

Enter Sam... through door r. About to cross to enter dining- 
room when he discovers Dave. 



Id THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Sam. Why, why, Dave, my boy — is it really you ? 

{Goes over to Dave, places one hand on his shoulder, the 
other outstretched to grasp his hand. Dave stops to take 
another puff before rising to acknowledge his greeting.} 

Dave {indifferently). Why, hello, dad. 

{Gives him formal hand-clasp.} 

Sam. {showing surprise at cool greeting and stepping back). 
Why, Dave, my boy, what's the trouble? But wait — I'll call 
the folks. {Goes to dining-room door and calls.) Oh, mother, 
he's here ! {Then goes to door r. and calls.) Oh, Sallie ! 

Enter Mrs. C,from dining-room, wiping her hands on apron. 

Mrs. C. {going toward Dave with outstretched arms). My 
boy ! 

{Throius arms around neck, kissing him. Dave submits 
passively to the embrace.) 

Dave {coldly). Hello, mother. 

Mrs. C. My, it's good to have my boy back again ! 

Sam. Our boy, mother ! 

Enter Sallie, dancing through door r. ; Madge following in 
her wake. 

Sallie. Oh, Dave! {Clutches him with sisterly zeal.) 
You darling ! {Kisses him.) 

Dave {coldly). Hello, Sis. How are you? 

( They all look at him in amazement at his small display of 
affection. Madge stands a couple of feet inside door r. 
detachedly surveying the scene.) 

Mrs. C. Why, Dave, what has happened? You don't 
seem to be glad to be home again — with us. 

Dave. Glad ? At being back here ! 

Sallie {teasingly). Oh, never mind, mother. I suppose 
we seem funny after all his fine college friends. 

Sam. {looking at Dave's cigarette). Why, Dave, do you 
smoke those much ? Where's your pipe ? 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 19 

Dave. Oh, you've got to do something. (Gogs back and 
straddles corner of table.) Cigarettes are all right, anyway. 
Only rubes and hod-carriers smoke a pipe nowadays. 

(Yawns in bored fashion. Madge, realizing her intrusion 
on a family scene and surprised at Dave's attitude , gives 
a rueful shake of her head and exits through door R.) 

Mrs. C. Now, Sam, don't scold my boy so soon after his 
return. (To Dave.) But how did you get here so early? 

Dave. Oh, when I got to St. Paul I found I had time to 
cremate, so I flipped another rattler (sighing), and here I am. 

Sallie (who has gone over to Dave's luggage and is open- 
ing the traveling bag). What did you bring me, Dave ? 

Dave (shortly). Nothing. I just had about enough coin 
to save myself from hitting the ties and doing the tragedian 
specialty, without investing in any grimcracks. 

Mrs. C. Why, Dave, dear. I am afraid you have hurt 
Sallie's feelings. 

Sallie (rallying and trying not to appear hurt). Oh, don't 
mind about me, mother. But, Dave, I do so want to see your 
diploma. Is it in your suit case ? 

Dave. In my suit case? No; I haven't got any — I mean 
I forgot it. (Brazenly.) Oh, I guess you might just as well 
know first as last. I haven't got any degree and never will get 
any. To make it short and sweet 1 was kicked out. 

Sam. (wonder ingly). Kicked out ? 

Mrs. C. What do you mean, my son? 

Sallie (pai?ied). Oh, Dave ! 

Dave (rising from table and shoving hands into his pockets). 
Oh, there's no use in making any fuss about it. Until this last 
year I want you to know I was the college farmer — a gawk to 
be laughed at when I crossed the campus. I got good and 
tired of it, I tell you. So I got running with another gang — 
none of your greasy grinds, but good fellows. I might have 
known my luck wouldn't last. One night I got pinched in a 
scrape and Prexy canned me. Now there's the whole thing. 
And for heaven's sake, don't give us any tears. It's all over 
and done with. 

Sam. See here, Dave, a college education don't entitle you 
to talk that way to us. 

Mrs. C. (interrupting). Father, don't ! 

Sam. Just a minute, Jane. I want to talk with Dave. (To 



20 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Dave.) Have you ever stopped to think what this means to 
your mother and me ? Do you realize how we have scrimped 
and saved, pinched and deprived ourselves, that you might 
have a college schooling and be as good as the best of them ? 
We never grudged you anything in our power. Until now we 
were proud of you and happy — and now you have done this — 
disgraced your mother and me. 

Mrs. C. {pleadingly). Father ! 

Sam. {not noticing the interruption). Well, I'm through 
with you, Dave. I have done my best, and you have done — 
your worst. We've spent every cent we had on you. From 
now on you had better look out for yourself — if you can. They 
all told me what you were. We didn't believe them {bitterly), 
but I guess they were right. You're a ne'er-do-well ! {Goes 
to door r., then turns.) Come, Sallie ! Jane ! 

{Exit through door r. Sallie follows, turns and looks at 
Dave sadly, then exits with handkerchief to eyes.) 

Mrs. C. {putting arms around Dave and patting his shoul- 
der tenderly). Don't mind father, Dave. He's excited. 
Everything will come out all right, my boy ! (Dave attempts 
to evade her embrace. She goes over to dining-room door, opens 
it, then turns.) Dinner's ready when you are, my son. 

{Exit through dining-room door. Dave shrugs his shoul- 
ders as if brushing the whole troublesome matter from him. 
Reaches in pocket for cigarette case, takes cigarette from 
it, and smokes rapidly as if to restore his self-esteem. 
Goes over to writing table and sits there, dangling his legs, 
as if undecided what to do next.) 

Enter Madge through door r., walking rapidly across stage 
as if about to exit through door l. At the sound of her 
steps Dave turns and discovers Madge. 

Dave. Madge ! (Madge continues to walk toward exit L.) 
Haven't you time to say hello to me? 

Madge {seriously). Yes, Dave, if you wish. But not much 
more. {Comes back to him.) 

Dave {sneeringly). Ob, I suppose Sallie's been crying 
around her tale of woe. 

Madge. You don't mean that, Dave. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 21 

Dave. Well, they all kicked up such a row you'd think I'd 
robbed a safe. (Ingratiatingly.) But that isn't going to make 
any difference with us, is it, Madge? {Laughs.') You know 
the way it is with fellows at college. {Lightly.) But you're 
just the same old Madge — only prettier than ever. 

{Seizes her hand. She ivrests her hand from him and re- 
treats a couple of steps, where she stands, eyeing him in 
sorrowful indignation.) 

Madge. Dave, I didn't mean to say anything to you about 
the pain you have caused your father and mother. I meant to 
leave you to fight it out with your better self — the old Dave. 

(Dave renews puffing on his cigarette.) 

Dave. So you're going to turn preacher, too. You're 
too pretty by half to preach. Why not be the old Madge ? 

Madge. Because I can't. I am different and you are dif- 
ferent, Dave — oh, so different. And we can never be as we 
were before unless you drop this cheap cynicism — this man-of- 
the- world contempt for those who really love you. Unless, 
Dave, you stop hiding your heart behind a cigarette. 

Dave. Oh, come, no melodrama ! 

Madge. It isn't melodrama, Dave. It is the truth — and 
that is why it hurts and burns deep. What you are you owe to 
your father and mother, not to your college chums. They sac- 
rificed everything for you to have you sneer at them. This is 
just the beginning. It is what you do to-day that is going to 
count. If I knew you were all wrong I wouldn't have come 
back when you called just now. I came because I knew that this 
isn't the real, right you. (Dave re?7ioves cigarette from lips and 
slowly allows it to drop from his hand.) No, Dave, I can't 
even respect you. And until you can prove that you are not 
what your father said, but that you're a man and can do a 
man's work, I can't be the old Madge or Madge at all to you. 
Good-bye, Dave. Think over what I have said, and when the 
old Dave comes to the surface perhaps, perhaps the old Madge 
will be waiting for him. 

{She goes to door l., turns and looks back at Dave, who 
stands with head boived in thought ; then exits through 
door l. Ten second pause for effect after Madge's exit. 
Then unconsciously, as if from force of habit, Dave reaches 



22 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

into pocket for cigarette case, takes out cigarette , lights 
match— still unconsciously — slozvly lifts match as if to 
light cigarette. Then suddenly conscious of what he is 
doing, Dave allows i?iatch to drop from fingers to floor. 
Then with new determination he snatches cigarette from 
lips, looks at it, and dashes it to the floor.) 

Dave. No, I'm damned if I will ! 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

SCENE.— Office of the Chester " Clarion" ; full stage, box 
setting. Door r. c, in back. Window l. c, in back, 
through which people may be seen as they pass. Practical 
doors R. 2 e. and L. 2 E. Flat top desk L. c, with swivel 
chair back of it and straight chair l. Stove with pipe run- 
ning into flat, betwee?i door and window. File of wood 
near stove. Hat and coat rack L. Small table and tivo 
chairs R. c. On desk are ink bottle, pen, papers, books, etc. 
On small table a stack of newspapers. Snow is seen falling 
through window and when door in back is opened. It con- 
tinues to snow fitfully through act, and characters entering 
door in back should have snow {coarse salt) on clothing. 
The stage is tvell illuminated, it being early afternoon. 
Stage empty at rise. 

{ When curtain is well tip Dave is seen passing ivindoiu ; 

then enters through door in flat. Steps inside, shakes 

snow from coat, stamps feet, removes hat and shakes snoiv 
from it. Then crosses to hat rack, hangs up hat, removes 

outer coat and hangs it up, then crosses over to stove and 
proceeds to warm his hands. This done he goes down to 

desk L. c. He picks up corn-cob pipe from desk, which he 
fills, lights, and smokes. Then he sits down at desk.) 

Dave {briskly). Now to put the finishing touches on the 
Christmas number of the Chester Clarion. Christmas ! 
{Thoughtful pause, bitterly.) Merry Christmas! Oh, well! 
(Seizes pencil and rummages about desk as if in search of some- 
thing, then.) I wonder what my superannuated helpmate did 
with those galley proofs. (Calls.) Bart ! (Louder.) Oh, 
Bart ! Gee, I forgot — my enterprising assistant couldn't hear 
the crack of doom at this distance. (Rises, goes to door r., 
opens it, and calls in very loud voice.) Bart, have you got 
those proofs ? 

(Bart comes to door r., speaking-trumpet at ear.) 

Bart. Hey? What's that? 

2 3 



24 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Dave (very loudly). Proofs, proofs ! Have you got them ? 

Bart. Oh, it's proofs you want. Well, why didn't you 
say that in the first place ? [Exit Bart, through door r. 

Dave. Lord, it's hard to convince that man he's hard of 
hearing. (Goes back to desk, picks up paper and shears, and, 
whistling a feiu bars, proceeds to cut out article, then stops.) 
Well, there are no brilliant squibs in the Eyota Gazette that I 
can cop to-day. (Puts scissors down o?i desk.) I tell you, if 
the devoted reading public knew the lively little time that I — 
combination editor, reporter, proof-reader and office boy — had 
in getting out the Chester Clarion, they would have more re- 
spect for my talents. And now since I've started this sensa- 
tional Jay I. C. trolley line expose, I presume they will expect 
me to keep up the pace. (Enter Bart, shuffling from door v.., 
carrying proofs in hand.) At last, little Mercury has arrived. 

Bart (putting trumpet to ear). What's that? 

(Drops trumpet.) 

Dave. That wasn't for publication. The gifted editor was 
talking to himself. Now, then, Bartholomew, lend an ear. 
The next issue of the Clarion is going to knock spots. What 
we have been feeding them heretofore has only been a sample 
— to-day they get the goods. (Notices that Bart has not got 
trumpet to ear.) My dear Bart, put the receiver to your ear 
and step closer to the 'phone. You must drop that habit of 
ringing off while I am talking, or I'll have to discontinue the 
service. ( While talking to him Dave places trumpet to Bart's 
ear.) Now this time it is going to be simple ; the next issue 
of the Clarion is going to say flat what we have been hinting, 
namely, that the Jay I. C. trolley line is an out-and-out swin- 
dle, and that Starr Clay is a fraud of the most abandoned type. 
Now let's have those proofs. (Extends his hand for them.) 

Bart (protesting and holding back proofs). Jest a minute. 
I've worked on the Clarion twenty years and it never done no 
such thing as this before. 

Dave. My respected adjuvant, you're a member of the old 
school. You were brought up on the " Lem-Peters-is-repair- 
ing-his-fence-good-boy-Lem " diet. But since then the Clarion 
has changed hands and feet. 

Bart. Wa'al, does Mr. Williams know what you are doing ? 

Dave. As he is the owner of this paper he ought to ; and 
you just bet he does. He's one of the few live wires in this 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 25 

candle-lighted community. If you don't believe me you can 
write to him. 

Bart {reluctantly handing over proofs). Wa'al, I ain't 
going to write as far as Europe to find out, but when he gets 
home I'll speak to him about it. It don't seem right to me 
lambastin' Starr Clay that way. He's a power in this town, I 
tell you. He's got a lot of money. 

Dave. Cheer up, Bart. He may not have so much when 
the Clarion's finished with him. (He spreads proof s out on 
desk. Bart turns to go, but Dave grabs him by the elbow.) 
Just a minute — don't ring off ! I've got to read this to some one, 
and it might as well be you. How's this for a scarehead, Bart? 
{Reads from proof ; Bart with ear-trumpet stands in listening 
attitude.) "Jay I. C. stock deal fraudulent. Starr Clay's 
company only exists on paper. The Clarion hereby announces 
and has documentary proof in its office to show that the Jay 
I. C. trolley line is a swindle of the rankest sort, and that its 
stock is utterly worthless." How does that sound over the 
'phone, Bart? 

Bart {doubtfully shaking his head). Wa'al, I don't know. 
But I wished Mr. Williams hadn't gone to Europe. 

Dave. Mr. Williams told me to run this paper to the best 
of my ability. {Impressively taps the desk with his finger.) 
'This story goes in ! 

Bart. Then I reckon I'll hunt up a hiding place. 

Dave. No, you go oil up the press. 

(Bart goes over to door r., turns and looks at Dave, then.) 

Bart {aside). That ain't the same Dave that came home 
from college. 

(Dave occupies himself reading proofs intently. Sam. ap- 
pears at window in back, looks in, then enters door in 
back. He comes down to desk and looks over Dave's 
shoulder.) 

Sam. {playfully). Is the editor in ? 

(Dave swinging round on chair discovers him, then springs 
up joyfully.) 

Dave. Why, dad ! 



26 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

(Starts to extend hand in warm greeting, then drops it and 
half turns away as he suddenly remembers their last 
meeting.') 

Sam. (putting one hand on Dave' 's shoulder and grasping 
Dave's hand with his). Don't turn away, boy ! 

Dave (facing him). But, father, I thought 

Sam. (interrupting). What I said six months ago, my boy, 
isn't what I think to-day. 

Dave (returning hand-clasp warmly). Then you 

Sam. (again interrupting). I am a subscriber for the 
Clarion, and have been for twenty years — and it is a whole lot 
different since my boy's been editor. But don't you think 
you're going a leetle bit strong on Starr Clay and the Jay I. C. ? 
Dave. Starr? (Turns to proof on desk.) Why look here. 
(Picks up proof s and hands them to Sam.) Just take a glance 
at this heading. What do you suppose they will say when 
they see this in the next issue ? 

(Sam. adjusts spectacles , peers at proofs and gives a whistle 
of astonishment.) 

Sam. Ain't going to print that, be you ? 

Dave. Every word of it and three columns besides — all in 
Hearst type. 

Sam. Ain't you afraid you're going too far? 

Dave. No ; because I feel sure I am right. And besides — 
well, didn't he get your money? 

Sam. Yes, he got it all. Every cent. But maybe it was 
partly my own fault. Maybe I wanted to get rich too quick. 

Dave. That is Starr Clay's trouble, but it wasn't yours. 
It's going to do this town a world of good to have this hypo- 
critical grafter shown in his true light. 

Sam. Well, you know best, my son. But I'll have to be 
getting along. (Turns toward door in back.) I just thought 
I'd drop in on my way to the post-office. 

Dave. Oh, father, how's mother? And Sallie? 

Sam. Both well and — both proud of you ! 

Dave (hesitatingly). And the hotel? How's business? 

Sam. 'Tain't gone back any. Of course, we ain't quite as 
busy as they be at the Van Avery. Well, good-bye, my son, 
and be careful of Starr Clay. (Shakes his head.) He's pretty 
hard, Starr is, pretty hard. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 2J 

(Exits through door in back, stopping at windoiu to look in 
at Dave, who has plunged again into his proof-reading.') 

Dave (solus). Well, we shall see what we shall see. 

(Busies himself clipping and whistling.) 

Enter John, door in back from r., thus is not seen passing 
window in back. He carries small grip in hand. Comes 
briskly down to desk o?i which he bangs satchel. 

John. Good-afternoon. 

Dave. I know it is j but there's no use bragging about it. 

John. Are you the editor of this newsprint, sir ? 

Dave. I am ; and a very busy one, too. 

John (slapping him on the back). I don't suppose you 
know me ? 

Dave. I don't seem to recognize your face, but (brushing 
off his shoulder) your ways are familiar. 

John. Then, sir, allow me to introduce myself. (Throws 
card on desk.) John Drew Irving, late advance agent of the 
Brutus Franklin Repertoire Company, now demonstrator for 
Robinson's Ready Relief. A far cry from Momus to medi- 
cine, but (sighing) alas, a necessary one. (Opens satchel and 
takes out bottle which he holds aloft in one hand.) Robinson's 
Ready Relief, the paramount remedy of the century. The 
more you use it the more you have to use of it. Makes the 
sick well and the well sick. Not a cure-all, but the alpha and 
omega oil of medical ingenuity. And only one dollar a bottle. 

Dave. As I repeat, I am very busy. If you must go, don't 
let me keep you. 

John. Not at all, sir. It's busy men I like to talk to. A 
busy man needs medicine, I say. An idle one needs work. 
But I am not here to lure the coy greenback from you. Far 
from it. I am authorized by my company to present you with 
a bottle of its sterling remedy free gratis for nothing. 

(Presents Dave with bottle.) 

Dave. Say, you make me nervous. 

John. Nervousness ? The greatest cure on earth. See full 
directions on the bottle. But I fear I am taking up your time. 
I leave the bottle in your hands and trust to see a notice of 
Robinson's boon to mankind in your sparkling columns. 
Good-day, sir ! (Turns to exit.) 



28 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Dave. Good-day. That's the best thing you've said yet. 

John (at door in back). My company has also authorized 
me to purchase ten copies of your journal with marked notice. 
Remember, ten copies, sir ! [Exits through door in back. 

Dave {laughing good-naturedly). Well, if this keeps up the 
Christmas issue of the Chester Clarion will be the Fourth of 
July number. I'll have to remember those ten copies and in- 
crease the issue accordingly. {Returns to proof -reading.) 

(Mrs. C. comes to wifidoiv in back, smiles as she sees Dave 
at desk, then opens door in back, enters and stops on 
threshold as if uncertain of her welcome.) 

Mrs. C. (aside). Sam is right. He has changed. (Comes 
down to desk.) Dave ! 

Dave (springing up joyfully). Mother! (They embrace 
affectionately ; playfully.) Now, mother, what editor do you 
wish to see? I'm all of them. Society? Amusements? 
Household ? Sporting ? 

(Pulls chair forward, kisses her, and then gently pushes her 
into it.) 

Mrs. C. I don't want to see any editor, Dave. I just want 
to see my boy. I want to see myself if he is, as everybody 
says, — different. 

Dave (looking at her intently). And? 

Mrs. C. (patting his hand lovingly). Oh, Dave, you don't 
know how happy I am. I've read the Clarion for twenty 
years, but I never thought (proudly) that some day my son 
would be editor. 

Dave (smilingly). You never can tell. 

Mrs. C. But Madge? Do you ever see her ? 

Dave (turning to pick up paper to hide his embarrassment). 
No — not to speak to her. 

Mrs. C. (sighing). Don't worry, Dave, it will all come out 
all right; (rises) but I mustn't keep you any longer. I 
want to ask you to come over to dinner — Christmas dinner. 
We're going to have turkey and some of my mince meat. You 
see, I haven't forgotten what you like, my son. Father wants 
you, too. You'll come, won't you, Dave? 

Dave (delightedly). Come ? (Kisses her heartily. Walks 
with her toward door in back with his arm around her. At 
door.) Good-bye, mother. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 29 

Mrs. C. Good-bye, son ! {Kisses him.) Be over early. 

{Exit Mrs. C, through door in back, stops at window and 
waves at him. He waves back, then comes back to desk.) 

Dave. Bless her old heart, if she only knew how good that 
bill of fare sounds to me. But this isn't getting out the 
Clarion. {Sits down at desk, picks up pipe and lights it.) 

Enter Bart, through door r., with paper in hand. 

Bart. 'Scuse me. Is this here advertisement of Lem 
Wilkins' goin' to run this time ? 

Dave. What one's that, my gifted typesetter ? 

Bart. The one that ain't paid for. 

Dave. I'm afraid that's not very explicit, Bart. He never 
paid for any that I know of. You'd better "kill" that this 
time. 

Bart. Wa'al, he's one of our oldest advertisers. I reckon 
the Clarion won't look the same without Lem's notice in it. 

Dave. All right, Bartholomew, chuck it in. Far be it 
from me to destroy all your sacred traditions in one day. 

Bart. Thank ye. That's a big load off my mind. Have 
you read that first page proof yet ? 

Dave. Just finished. {Picks up papers from desk and 
hands them to him.) Nice, clean proofs, too. Bart, I'm 
proud of you. 

Bart. Wouldn't you sorter modify that heading ? 

Dave {shaking his head). Not a bit. That goes ! 

Enter Sallie and Art, through door from r. , thus are not 
seen passing window. 

Sallie. Howdy do ! 

Dave {ivheeling around in chair). Hello, Sallie ! And 
Art! 

Bart. Wa'al, I swan ! 

Sallie {coming down stage, folloiued by Art). Good- 
afternoon, Mr. Eaton. 

Art. Hello, Bart ! 

(Dave kisses Sallie and shakes Art's hand.) 

Bart {to Sallie and Art). Anything I kin do for you? 
Art. No ; we came to see Dave. 



3 o 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



Bart. Then I reckon you'll have to excuse me. {Gives 
Dave a meaning look.) I'm busy ! 

[Exits through door in R. 

Dave (Jo Art). Well, Art, what's stirring ? Got a " scoop " 
for me ? 

Art (impulsively). You see, it's this way. Sallie and 



me 



(Stops abruptly, twirling hat in embarrassment.') 
Well, go on, Art. I'm sure it's nothing to 



Sallie. Well, go on, Art. I'm sure it's nothing to be 
ashamed of. 

Art. Then you tell it. 

Sallie. Now don't be absurd — you know it's your place. 
You said you didn't mind a bit. 

Art. Well, I don't — only (Suddenly taking courage.) 

You see, Sallie and me (Stops again in embarrassment.) 

Oh, I say, Sallie, let's write it out and send it in. 

Sallie. Why, Art, aren't you ashamed of yourself? 

Dave (laughing). Never mind. Give me three guesses ? 
You two are going to be married. 

allie ) ^ t0 g etner an( i i n astonishment). Who told you? 

Dave (to Art). Why, you did. 

Sallie (reproachfully to Art). Why, Art, you said you'd 
never breathe it to a soul ! 

Art (earnestly). And I didn't either ! 

Dave (laughing). And when does the fight come off — er — 
I mean when are you to be married ? 

Art. Well, I've got to get a suit of clothes first. 

Sallie. Why, Art ! 

Dave (lightly). Bless you, my children. 

Art. You're going to give us a good write-up, ain't you, 
Dave? You know — beautiful girl — well-known and genial 
hotel clerk. That sort of thing. 

Dave. You leave it to me. I'll give you display notice, 
top of column, next to reading matter. 

Sallie (turning to exit). Come along, Art. Can't you 
see that Dave's busy ? 

Art (to Dave). See, she's starting to boss me already. 
(At door.) Gee ! I'm glad that's over. 

Ari UE [ (t°8 ether )- Good-bye. 

[Exeunt through door in back. 

Dave sits down at desk and starts to write out notice. ) 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 31 

Dave (reading as he writes). "The engagement is an- 
nounced of Miss Madge Clay to Mr. David " {Stops 

abruptly and throws pencil down on desk ; then seriously.) 
No, that's wrong. It's right — but it's wrong. It's been wrong 
for six months. I wonder if it will ever be right. (Then be- 
stirring himself.) But I've got to get to work. {Shivers as 
if cold, then calls to Bart.) Bart ! Oh, Bart ! Chuck a 
little wood in the stove, will you, while you're resting. (Busies 
himself with his work ; theft noticing that Bart doesn't answer 
his summons, calls in louder tone.) I say, Bart ! Oh, no 
use. I'd forgotten. Can do it myself in less time than to tell 
him. 

(Rises, goes up to stove, opens stove door, and starts to 
throw in wood, whistling loudly and making considerable 
noise.) 

Enter Mrs. J.-B., Mrs. J., and Miss S., through door in 
back from r., thus not being seen passing the window. 
Dave does not discover them but continues with his task. 
They adva?ice to c, looking critically around the room. 

Mrs. J.-B. Ladies, I am indeed disillusioned. No literary 
atmosphere whatever. 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Miss S. As you say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Mrs. J.-B. (turning and indicating Dave with a wave of 
her hand). I wonder who this person can be? 

Dave (looking up and discovering women). What's that ? 
Oh, I beg your pardon. 

(Gets up from floor where he has been kneeling.) 

Mrs. J.-B. Why, it is Mr. Crane. 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Miss S. As you say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Dave (bowing). To what, may I inquire, am I indebted for 
this visit ? 

Mrs. J.-B. (patronizingly). I come, Mr. Crane, as a com- 
mittee of protest from the Chester Culture Club. It has seemed 
to our members that there has been undue curtailment of the 
accounts of our meetings. 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Miss S. As you say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Dave. I am sure I can explain, Mrs. Brown. 



3 2 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



Mrs. J.-B. {ignoring hini). At our last meeting Miss Luella 
Wilkins, a daughter of one of your oldest advertisers (Dave 
makes a grimace of recognition), read a beautiful poem. You 
may recall the first line : " Under the mistletoe she stood when 
he assailed her." (Sternly.) That poem was sent to you, Mr. 
Crane, but it never appeared. 

Dave (placating her). But really, Mrs. Jones-Brown, we 
receive so much beautiful poetry. 

Mrs. J.-B. I have a copy of Miss Wilkins' verses here on 
which I have made critical notations. A reading of it in its 
entirety will doubtless prove most educational. 

(Takes out poem from hand-bag.') 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Miss S. As you Say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Dave (aside). Oh, Lord ! (Aloud.) Pray, Mrs. Jones- 
Brown, allow me to have it for publication. It would be selfish 
to confine such a treat to myself. 

(Smiles ingratiatingly ; Mrs. J.-B., greatly mollified, allows 
him to take it from her.) 

Enter Bart, from door r., with printed page in hand; walks 
over to desk, staring at women. 

Bart (placing newspaper on desk). Page proof. 

( Crosses to door r. , still staring curiously at women, who 
haughtily return his gaze, and then exits through door r.) 

Mrs. J.-B. Now there was another matter, Mr. Crane. In 
a recent issue you had a most depraving and brutal account of 
a — er — a baseball game, I believe — entirely overlooking our 
Browning meeting. One of the contestants was caught while 
attempting to steal a base ; the pitcher was knocked all over 
the lot ; and a Mr. Muggsy McGuire endeavored to reach home 
but died at third base, presumably from over-exertion. Alto- 
gether most revolting ! 

Mrs. J. Quite right, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Miss S. As you say, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Dave. Of course, you are aware, Mrs. Jones-Brown, that 
the Clarion is obliged to cater to various classes of society. 
(Blandly.) Not all of us are sufficiently gifted to be interested 
in Browning as you are. 

All. Oh, how nice of you ! 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



33 



(Mrs. J. and Miss S. give Mrs. J.-B. emphatic nudges.} 

Mrs. J.-B. {embarrassed). And still another thing, Mr. 
Crane. We ladies have often thought we should like to par- 
ticipate in the publication of the Clarion', to bear a part in the 
diffusion of sweetness and light through the medium of printer's 
ink. 

Dave {who has been shifting froi?i one foot to the other in 
his anxiety to see them take their departure). I've got it — the 
very thing. You — you — er — just chuck the wood in the fire 
there and I'll finish with these proofs. And after that — {pauses 
in perplexity) why, after that you can go in the next room and 
help Bart kick the press. Tickled to death you suggested the 
idea. 

Mrs. J.-B. {indignantly). Chuck wood, indeed ! 
, Mrs. J. Kick the press ? Just fancy ! 

Miss S. How repulsive ! 

Mrs. J.-B. Come, ladies, let us go and leave this imper- 
tinent young man to his own degrading company. 

(All exit through door in back, casting backward scornful 
and indignant glances.) 

Dave {sighing). For this relief much thanks. Thought at 
one time I would have to call in the fire department to put them 
out. {Goes back to desk.) Well, now one more stab for the 
good cause. The Christmas Clarion shall appear despite fire 
and flood. 

(Bart opens door R., and intruding head, calls to Dave at 
desk.) 

Bart. If you're not busy will you step in here and see how 
this eight-point set-up looks. {Pointedly.) That is, if you're 
not too busy. 

Dave {getting upfront chair). Oh, bless you, my child, 
I've given up being busy. {Goes over to door r. At door 
stops and turns as if about to return for proofs, then.) Oh, I 
guess they're safe. \_Exit through door R. 

(Clay is seen at window in back. He peers cautiously 
around as if to make sure no one is in office, then enters 
through door in back, again looking around to see if he is 
unobserved.) 



g4 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Clay. Humph, not in. So this is where the young upstart 
does his mischief. Well, we'll see. ( Walks down toward 
desk, glances carelessly at papers, then stares intently as the 
headlines of the page proof catch his eye, starts with surprise, 
snatches paper from desk, and holds it at arm's length, read- 
ing aloud.) "Jay I. C. stock deal fraudulent. Starr Clay's 
company only exists on paper." {Lowers arm and crushes 
paper in fist.) The scoundrel ! 

Enter Dave through door R., walking briskly. Stops short 
as he discovers Clay. 

Dave. Oh, Mr. Clay ! 

Clay (nervously endeavoring to recover composure). Oh — 
er — howdy do, Mr. Crane. 

Dave (coolly). Anything special? 

Clay. No, no. Just thought I'd drop in for a little friendly 
call, you know. (Laughs in forced manner.) Haven't been 
in a newspaper office for some time. Thought I'd see how you 
run things — you understand. 

Dave. Oh, yes, of course. 

Clay (looking about room). So this is where you get out 
the Chester Clarion ? 

Dave (dryly). This is where I try to get it out. 

Clay. Nice quarters, ain't they ? 

(Picks up paper knife from desk and taps it against other 
hand, looking at it with divided attention.) 

Dave. Yes, they answer the purpose. 

Clay. Well, a good paper needs good quarters, and the 
Clarion has gone right ahead since you took hold of it. I 
cal'late it's just about as good as any in this part of the state 
now, ain't it? 

Dave (significantly). Some people are kind enough to 
say so. 

Clay (holding paper knife by blade and gazing at it curi- 
ously). Odd little knife, ain't it? Something foreign ? 

Dave (watching Clay intently). Yes ; French, I believe. 

Clay. Ever been on the other side yourself? 

Dave. No. Couldn't afford it. 

Clay. Uh-huh. (Pause.) Aiming to go some time, I 
suppose ? 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 35 

Dave. You never can tell. 

Clay. Great sights over there — wonderful. Shouldn't miss 
it {slowly and impressively), especially for a young man like 
you. 

Dave {facing him squarely). Mr. Clay, I don't want to 
take up any of your time. Just what did you come here for ? 

Clay {not noticing interruption). Great rest, too, for peo- 
ple who are overworked. Finest thing on earth for brain fag. 

Dave {impatiently). Mr. Clay, this is all beside the point. 
The subject for discussion {pointing at paper) is right there in 
your hand. Now come clean. 

Clay. Partly right and partly wrong, young man. I came 
here to offer you six months abroad at my expense. 

Dave {sarcastically). You are very kind. 

Clay. I am {impressively) sometimes. Of course, you un- 
derstand there is a little condition attached to my kindness. 

Dave. And that is ? 

Clay {holding out proof and tapping it). That this article 
never appears. {Sits down at desk aud pulls check-book from 
pocket as if matter was settled.) Let's see — six months — you 
ought to be able to do it for two thousand dollars. Well, you 
might as well see everything. Let's say two thousand, five 
hundred dollars. Satisfactory? 

Dave. Mr. Clay, there's one thing the matter with you. 
You've got inflammation of the imagination. Money has been 
your god so long that you imagine every one else is worship- 
ping at the same dirty shrine. You've made yourself believe 
that every man has his price — and that mine is a mighty low 
one. Let me tell you this : my health's good and my nerve is 
better, and I don't intend to go to Europe and leave a rotten 
swindle at home. Now what do you say to that ? 

Clay {gasping with astonishment ; rising from chair). 
What do I say to that ? That you're a fool, a darn fool ! 
And you'll lose your job, too ! Do you think that I've been 
reading that stuff in your paper right along about me and twirl- 
ing my thumbs? Maybe you do, but I didn't. The first time 
I saw those lies I sent Williams a cablegram. I'm expecting 
an answer every minute, and when it comes it means you're 
fired ; do you hear, you're fired. It means you'll be a loafer 
like you always was. Now what have you got to say to that, 
Mr. David Crane ? 

Dave. That it is a pretty good bluff. But until that cable 
comes I'm editor of the Clarion, and what I say goes. 



3 6 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



(Sits down at desk as if interview is at an end.) 



Clay. Then you mean 



Dave (interrupting him). Yes. And don't slam the door 
when you go out ! 

Clay (near door in back, holding up crumpled proof in one 
ha?id). You see that? Crushed, ain't it? (Lets it fall to 
the floor.) Well, that's just what I'm going to do to you. 
Crush you, understand — just like that. (Points to paper on 
floor.) Good-day. [Exits through door in back. 

(On Clay's exit Dave picks up pipe from desk, lights it 
and holds match meditatively as if mentally turning over 
Clay's threat. He then blows out match and holds it for 
an instant.) 

Dave (flicking match away). Just like that. (Resumes 
puffing vigorously on pipe and staring intently in front of him. 
A timid knock is heard at door in back. Dave removes pipe 
from mouth and listens. The knock is repeated, this time 
stronger. Dave, loudly.) Come in ! (Gets out of chair and 
starts for door in back.) What are you waiting for, anyway? 
Copper-plate invitation? I'll tell you right now I don't want 
to buy anything — no books, patent cleaning fluids, reversible 

umbrellas • (Door in back opens and Madge is discovered 

standing timidly on threshold. Dave recoils in surprise ; em- 
barrassed.) Oh 

Madge. May I come in ? 

Dave. Come in ? Well, I should say you could ! 

( Takes the hand she offers, goes over to door and closes it. 
Madge comes down stage followed by Dave. Dave pulls 
forward a chair and offers it, which she accepts. Both 
are embarrassed as to fust how to begin.) 

Madge (after a pause). It has stopped snowing. 
Dave (glancing confusedly at ivindow). Why, so it has. 

(Another long and embarrassed pause ensues.) 

Madge (glancing at desk). Don't let me keep you from 
your work. 

Dave. Work ? Oh, no — not at all. 
Madge. It isn't so cold as it was. 
Dave. Yes— er — I mean no. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



37 



Madge {impulsively and laughing nervously). Dave, I 
didn't come here to talk about the weather. (Pause.) You 
must know why I came — those articles about father. Don't 
you realize how they hurt him — and me ? There must be 
some mistake somewhere. They can't be true. Why are you 
doing this, Dave? 

Dave. Why ? Why, because — because it's the only thing 
I can do. I know you don't understand, Madge — you can't. 
It's only natural that you should believe in your father, but — 
well — oh, Madge, can't you see how hard it is for me — your 
father 

Madge. But it can't be true. You know my father as well 
as I do. 

Dave (grimly). Better, I'm afraid. I fought this all out, 
Madge, fought it just as fairly as I could and — it was all there 
was left to do. You remember what you told me when I 
came home from college? I haven't forgotten that. I guess 
it's burnt into my brain somewhere. You remember you said 
that you couldn't respect me until I did a man's work. Well, 
I think I have found it— and I'm going to try to do it. 

Madge. Yes, Dave, I know I told you that. You have 
done it, done it beautifully; and I was so proud of you until — 
until these articles appeared. And now you're wrong, Dave. 

Dave (firmly). Madge, I'm right, dead right. I tried to 
shut my eyes; tried for your sake, but I couldn't. It's more 
now than a question of your respect for me- — it means my self- 
respect. I can't stop now. It's got to go through. 

Madge. I suppose I am foolish but, somehow, I thought 
you cared more for me than that, Dave. 

Dave. That isn't quite fair. You know how I care for you 
and what I owe to you — but that is just why you shouldn't 
demand this sacrifice. Honor may be a high-sounding title, 
but it stands for something ; for something that I've felt inside 
me since that night I came from college. It means — oh, hang 
it all, why couldn't it have been somebody else's father? Any- 
body but yours. 

Madge. And now that it is my father —you will not go on ? 

Dave. I must. 

Madge (rising from chair). Have you thought what this 
means to me? 

Dave. Have you thought what this means to me ? Here I 
am, struggling to get a grip, to plant myself solidly somewhere. 
I'm just getting a foothold now and you ask me to slip back, 



38 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

back into the shiftless existence your words lashed me out of. 
Can't you understand, Madge ? You've been my goal— you've 
stood for everything. Now the first time there comes a real 
rub between duty and inclination you ask me to give over. It 
isn't right, I tell you, it isn't right ! 

Madge. By what right, Mr. Crane, do you assume all this ? 
How can you be sure that my father is — is — well, all that you 
say? 

Dave {pulling open top drawer of desk and pointing at 
papers therein). By this ! {Holds up folded letter.) A 
letter placed in my hands that would convince any jury in 
Brown County. {Unfolds it and holds it toward Madge for 
her inspection.) Perhaps you recognize the writing? 

Madge {vehemently). My father's ! 

Dave. Yes. 

Madge {pleadingly). Dave, let me have that letter. For 
my sake — for the sake of old times — please, Dave ! 

Dave {making motion as if to give it to her, then taking it 
back). No, Madge. Not for the sake of old times, not even 
for the sake of what I hoped might be. 

Madge {scornfully). What might be ! How tremendously 
self-sacrificing you have become. And as for anything that 
might have been you have killed that to-day. You have only 
yourself to blame. But then one could hardly expect the vir- 
tuous Mr. Crane to listen to the daughter of a — a thief. 

Dave. Madge ! 

Madge. Don't call me Madge, Mr. Crane. When you 
take my father as a means to forward your ambition, to thrust 
yourself into public notice and to play reformer, our friendship 
is at an end. I can only thank you for your courtesy. 

{Goes up tozuard door in back.) 

Dave. Madge, won't you let me 

Madge {interrupting him). Good-day, Mr. Crane. I con- 
gratulate you on your success. 

{Bows scornfully and exits through door in back.) 

Dave {looking after her sorrowfully ; then bitterly). My 
success ! I wonder if it's worth it all ? 

(Bart comes bustling in through door r., dressed for street. 
Goes over to desk and places newspaper on it.) 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 39 

Bart. There she be. Clean, spick, and span ! Gosh, it's 
goia' to open folks' eyes. Well, they're all run off and a few 
Ixtry ones besides. Guess if you don't want me for anything 
more I've got a leetle shopping to do. 

(Dave standing at desk gazes fixedly but inattentively at 
paper. ) 

Dave (as if he hadn't heard Bart). I wonder if it's worth 
it all? 

Bart. Wa'al, I guess I'll be goin' along. (Goes over to 
door in back; stops half way.) Wa'al, good-night, Dave, 
and merry Christmas ! 

Dave (absent-mindedly). Oh, yes, to be sure — merry Christ- 
mas, Bart ! (Sinks down into chair and repeats reflectively.) 
Merry Christmas ! 

Reenter Bart, through door in back, with cablegram in hand. 

Bart (excitedly, coming over to desk). Cablegram for you. 
Just met Hank coming up from the station, so I brought it in. 
Guess it ain't anything to keep me, though. Wa'al, good-night 
and merry Christmas ! [Bustling exit through door in back. 

(Dave slowly tears end from envelope, draws out slip of 
paper and reads aloud.) 

Dave (reading). "You are hereby fired. George Will- 
iams. ' ' (Rises slowly to feet, slowly crushing cable blank in 
hand.) Crushed! (Then letting blank fall from hand to 
floor.) Crushed ! Just like that ! 



CURTAIN 



ACT III 

SCENE. — Lobby of the New Occidental Hotel, eight months 
later. Full stage, box setting. Double practical door r. , 
backed by street scene. Sliding doorway r., with sign 
"Elevator" over doorway. Door l., with sign "Buffet" 
over doorway. Handsome hotel coimter against back flat, 
upon which is usual hotel equipment. Back of counter on 
front is pigeonhole case for mail and keys. L. is cigar 
counter and news stand, r. and L. are two or three hand- 
some leather chairs of the usual type. Alongside of elevator 
is bench for bell-boys. The furnishings must be in direct 
contrast to the settings of Act I. Everything is as handsome 
as circumstances will permit. Lights are full up, as it is 
early afternoon. Note: characters of Bart and Will 
Sellem are doubled, also Miss S. and Gertie Flye. 

{At rise discovered Art behind counter, engaged in reading 
newspaper. Bell-boys on bench. Gertie behind news 
counter and Will in front of it, busily engaged in shaking 
dice. ) 

Gertie (counting up total of throws'). That makes just 
twenty-four. You lose. 

Will (putting doivn dice box in disgust and shoving hands 
in pocket). That's the last time I play that game. You ain't 
got as much chance as a pair of lace curtains in a blast furnace. 

(Starts to walk toward counter.) 

Gertie. Just a minute. (Yawns in bored fashion.) Did 
you pay me for that ? 

Will. Oh, charge it. 

Gertie (making a note of it). All right. (Sweetly.) 
Your sporting blood is kinda thin this afternoon, ain't it, Mr. 
Sellem ? 

Will (disregarding her and going over to counter. To 
Art). What time is the next mail? (Art pays no attention 
to his query.) Excuse me if you're busy, but when is the next 
mail ? (Art looks upfront paper, yawns and stretches. Will 
looks pointedly at Art, and then at Gertie, who is also yawn- 
ing.) Say, I ain't keeping you folks up, am I? 
40 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 41 

Art. The next mail is in. It was in the last time you asked 
me. Our carrier pigeon service ain't installed yet. 

Will. Oh, very well. Just thought I'd inquire. {Goes 
over to chair r., and sits down.) Well, thank heaven, this is 
the last of the tanks on my route list. This excitement would 
kill me. 

{Rocks steadily back and forth for a moment, then gets up 
and exits into buffet. Art, who has dropped pen from 
back of ear, taps bell on desk smartly.') 

Art. Front ! {Bell-boy comes briskly up to desk.) Just 
pick up that pen, boy. {Boy picks up pen and hands it to 
him. Art replaces pen back of ear.) Eight months ago I'd 
had to pick that up myself. Lot of difference in this place. 

Gertie {who has been busily arranging hair and chewing 
gum). It must have been an awful place ! 

Art. Awful is not quite the word. If you'd seen it then 
and now you'd realize what Dave has done. 

Gertie. I think Dave — I mean Mr. Crane — is just the 
grandest thing. There's something so classy about him. He 
reminds me of New York City. 

Art. Say, can't you ever forget that town ? Why, say, 
Dave makes New York look like a pair of white cuffs in Pitts- 
burg. I'll bet there isn't a hotel man in New York who can 
beat him ! 

Gertie {y atoning again). My, how we love our boss ! By 
the way, when's he coming back ? 

Art. Kind of interested, aren't you? Well, if it will help 
you any, he'll be back to-day. The convention closed yester- 
day and Dave won't tarry in any wayside inn. In the mean- 
time, Miss Flye, don't let me keep you from dusting off your 
emporium of literature. 

Gertie. Thank you kindly, Mr. Wimpel, but I guess I 
don't need your help. I had a friend who was cigar lady for 
two years at the Hoffman House in New York City. Did you 
get that, the Hoffman House ! 

Art. My word ! 

{Bends over paper again, and Gertie commences to dust stock.) 

Enter John, carrying a suit case in each hand, through door 
in back. As he enters a bell-boy rushes forward to re- 
lieve him of his burden. 



42 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

John {dropping suit cases to floor). Whee ! {Removes hat 
and starts to mop forehead.) Hot as a chorus rehearsal 
ain't it ? 

{Walks over to counter; bell-boy follows carrying grips. 
Art whirls register around and offers him pen.) 

Art. Howdy do ! , 

John {flourishing pen, then looking around the office). 
Some changed, hasn't it? I didn't know at first whether I was 
in the right place. Changed hands? 

Art. No, not exactly. {Proudly.) Mr. Crane's son is 
manager now. 

John {signing his name). About a year since I've been 
here. Guess you don't remember me, do you ? 

Art {whirling register toward him and reading name). 
Oh, yes, Mr. Irving. John Drew Irving. Let's see — gents' 
suits, ain't it ? 

John. Nope; used to be patent medicines, but it's sus- 
penders now. Support myself by supporting others. Kin da 
funny, eh ? (Gertie giggles and John looks around in her 
direction, not having noticed her before. Then to Art.) Does 
that belong here, too ? 

Art. It does now, but {confidentially) it's late of New York 
City. 

John. Is that so? Can you fix me out all right? And 
nothing too good, either ! I'm just putting a belt around the 
universe with these suspenders. Kinda funny, eh? 

(Gertie giggles again.) 

Art {turning to key rack). I guess forty-four will suit you 
about down to the ground. {Hands key to boy.) Want to go 
up now ? 

John {handing boy tip). Just take my stuff up, boy, and 
put some ice water in the room. I want to see if she has the 
Clipper. {Boy exits into elevator with baggage ; John starts 
over to news stand, then turns.) Say, I forgot something. 
{Draws baggage checks from pocket.) Get those up for me 
all right ? 

Art. You said something there. Finest baggage man in 
the country. Starr Clay's doing that for us now. 

John. Starr Clay? You don't mean that rich old codger 
that was mixed up in the Jay I. C. deal, do you ? 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



43 



Art. The very same. 

John. What, hauling baggage ? 

Art. Yes, and he's a good hauler, too ! 

John. Come on, I'll bite. What's the joke? What's he 
doing it for — his health ? 

Art. Yes, in a way. He had to get his three meals per, I 
guess. But you must have read about him losing all his money 
— and this was the only thing left to do. You'll hear all about 
it if you stick around long enough. (John goes over to news 
stand and engages Gertie in conversation. Art busies him- 
self with register. After a minute John starts for buffet with 
"Clipper" wider his arm. Art finishes writing a fid 
pulls out his watch.) Gee, it's time to smoke. {Comes 
around from back of counter. As he does so Will enters from 
buffet drying his lips suggestively and smacking them remi- 
niscently. At stand to Gertie.) Well, bright eyes, what have 
you got in the burn line ? Got a nice panatella that's idle ? 
(Gertie produces box and Art selects cigar.) That looks like 
a respectable rope. How much ? 

(Sallie enters from elevator and stands watching them.) 

Gertie. Oh, I guess that's a gift. You're a pretty good 
customer. 

Art. Gertie, you're a great little girl, and I don't care who 
knows it. 

Gertie (discovering Sallie). Are you sure you don't? 
I guess your stern lamps need trimming. 

Art (turning around and discovering Sallie). Oh, hello, 
Sallie ! 

Sallie (coldly). ' I intended to ask you something, but I see 
you are engaged. 

Gertie. He ain't to me. Run along, Art, like a good 
boy. Besides, it's me for the eats. My canary bird appetite 
is beginning to scream for help. 

(Gertie comes around from back of stand and walking over 
to elevator in stately fashion, exits.) 

Sallie. Art Wimpel, I'm surprised at you ! 
Art. What's the answer? (To bell-boys.) Front! Both 
of you ! Go up-stairs with ice- water. 
Boys. What room ? 



44 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Art. Oh, any room. Give them all ice-water- it's a hot 
day. [Exeunt bell-boys. 

Sallie. I suppose you consider it perfectly proper for an 
engaged man to flirt with — with — well, with her ! 

Art {trying to take her hand). Oh, is that all that's 
worrying you? {Seriously.') You know you're the only one, 
Sal'ie. The others just don't count. 

Sallie {pouting). Well, you never called me a great little 
girl. 

Art. Well, I will now. {Puts his arm around her.) 

Efiter John from buffet and discovers them. 

John {embarrassed). Er — I — I beg your pardon. Going 
up ! {Strides across stage and exits into elevator.) 

Sallie {disengaging herself ). No, sir. I don't like it one 
bit. And unless your attentions to that person cease you can 
never be my husband ; so there ! 

Art. Then I'll tell you how we can settle it. You can be 
my wife. 

Sallie. Oh, there's no satisfaction in quarreling with you. 

Art. Not a bit. 

{Kisses her. Here Will sits up in chair with start, sees 
the situation and starts hurriedly for the buffet.) 

Will. This is no place for a dealer in dry-goods. 

(Sallie, to hide her confusion, picks up paper from coutiter 
and pretends to read.) 

Art {standing back of her and pointing over her shoulder at 
item). Oh, look. There's something I forgot to tell you. 

Sallie {reading). " Mrs. Jones-Brown, accompanied by Miss 
Madge Clay, is expected to return home to-day after a pro- 
tracted sojourn in foreign parts. Until the decorators have 
finished the Jones-Brown residence she will stay at one of the 
local hotels." Oh, Art, do you suppose she will stop here? 

Art. Well, why not? It's the best one, isn't it? 

Sallie. But Madge is with her. 

Art. Well, what of that ? 

Sallie. Oh, you men never understand. Just think how 
hard it would be for her to stay here. 

Art. Don't see why — pretty swell place. If you stay here 
I guess it's good enough for Madge Clay. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 45 

Sallie. Did it ever occur to you that I was thinking about 
Dave? You know that Dave and Madge haven't met since 
last Christmas eve — just before the Jay I. C. expose. 

Art. Gosh, I never thought of that. 

Sallie. And she probably isn't any too strong either. 
Art, if you ever say another word about Mrs. Jones-Brown I'll 
break our engagement. Just think of her taking Madge away 
when the poor child got nervous prostration. There aren't 
many women in Chester who would do that. 

Art. Keep your gloves on. I'm not knocking Mrs. Jones- 
Brown. But she didn't do a bit more for Madge than Dave 
did for her father. Staked him to a horse and wagon and 
gave him all the baggage business from the hotel. 

Sallie. Oh, Art, doesn't it seem a shame that we're all so 
happy and that Dave is — well, he never says anything about it, 
but you know the way he cares for Madge. 

Art. It's too bad, all right. But Dave's game, you bet — 
only he never laughs or cuts up the way he used to. 

Sallie. Now see here, Art, if Madge comes here and you 
and I can't straighten matters out I'll just cry I will be so 
miserable. 

Art. Well, getting them together will be as hard as swim- 
ming through glue. Every time they meet they scrap. Why 
aren't they like us? {Puts his arm around her waist.) 
Now we never fight ! 

Sallie {doubtfully). Well, we do sometimes, but — (he 
kisses her ; coyly) but the making up is worth it. 

Enter Sam., through door in back, with telegram in hand. 

Sam. (bustling in, but stopping short as he discovers Art 
and Sallie). Ahem! (Playfully.) Art, how dare you kiss 
my daughter before me ? 

Art. I didn't know you wanted to kiss her. 

Sam. Well, folks, I got a little news for you. Guess what? 

Sallie. Oh, daddy, please tell us ! 

Sam. (handing her telegram). There, read for yourself. 

Sallie (reading). " Reserve suite for party. Will arrive 
August 14th, at three. Mrs. Jones-Brown." Why, that's 
to-day. Oh, Art, they're really coming here ! 

Sam. (proudly). I guess that will let the Van Avery folks 
know where we stand when Mrs. Jones-Brown stops with us. 
(Looks around admiringly.) Lord love me, I'd never believe 



40 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

that this was possible a year ago. And it wouldn't have been 
except for my boy. {Pulls out another telegram from pocket.) 
And I've got some more news. Dave will be home this after- 
noon. He comes in on number six. 

Sallie. Now, Art, you can see the work that lies ahead of 
us — with Madge and Dave here. 

Sam. What's that, daughter? 

Sallie. It's a little secret just now, daddy. But you'll 
know; won't he, Art? 

Art (doubtfully). I guess it's all right if you say so. 

(Sam., Art and Sallie, at counter, engage in pantomime 
conversation. Bell-boys enter from elevator and take 
seats 071 bench. Then enter Will, from buffet, wiping his 
lips suggestively. Also enter John, from elevator. They 
meet c. stage and shake hands.) 

Will. Well, I'll be darned ! 

John. Same here. How's biz ? 

Will. Finer than silk. How is it with you ? 

John. Great. Just took an order for two hundred pairs. 

Will. What are you talking about, fruit ? 

John. No, suspenders. (Slaps him on the back.) Kinda 
funny, eh ? Still selling dry-goods ? 

Will (nodding his head in direction of buffet). No, I'm 
buying wet goods. Come on in ! 

(They link arms and exit into buffet.) 

Sam. Well, Art, I guess you'd better see that them rooms 
on the second floor front is fixed up for her then. 

Art. All right, sir. We'll show Mrs. Jones-Brown what 
the Occidental can do. 

Enter Dave, through door in back, carrying hand-bag which 
he lets fall to the ground on discovering Sam., Sallie and 
Art. Bell-boys rush forward to seize his baggage. Then 
Dave comes down stage. 

ART LIE } (?"&**"} DaVe ! 

Sam. My boy ! 

Dave (shaking hands warmly with Sam. and Art and kiss- 
ing Sallie). Hello, dad. And how are the happy lovers? 
Where's mother ? 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 47 

Sam. Up-stairs. Sallie, go up and tell her Dave's come. 

Dave. Tell her I'll be up in just a minute, Sallie. 

[Exit Sallie, into elevator. 

Sam. How was the convention, Dave? Did you make a 
speech ? 

Dave (laughing). Hardly, dad. My, but it seems good to 
be back. How's business been? 

{Goes over to counter to look at register.') 

Art. Been a little light to-day, but 



Sam. {interrupting him). Yes, but Mrs. Jones-Brown and 
Madge will be here directly, we expect. 
Dave {abstractedly and softly). Madge ! 

Enter Mrs. C. and Sallie, from elevator. 

Mrs. C. {rushing forward eagerly). Dave, my boy ! I 
just couldn't wait. 

Dave {embracing her). You see I got back all right, 
mother. And I didn't forget to say my prayers and brush my 
teeth. {Puts arm around her waist affectionately.) 

Mrs. C. Say, doesn't it seem good to have my boy back 
again ? 

Sam. Our boy, you mean, mother. 

Dave {laughing). There, there, mother. "Our boy" will 
be a conceited wretch if you aren't careful. 

Mrs. C. My boy couldn't be a wretch of any kind. 

Dave {laughing again). I see it's no use. You're incor- 
rigible. 

Mrs. C. I'll get along now, Dave, and see about your 
room. Like as not the sheets are damp. One can't trust these 
chambermaids at all. (Sam. starts for buffet. Mrs. C, 
noticifig him.) Are you coming, dear ? 

Sam. Just thought I'd have a lemonade, mother, to cele- 
brate Dave's arrival. 

Mrs. C. Well, be sure it is a lemonade, dear. 

(Goes toward elevator.) 

Sam. Yes, mother. [Exits into buffet. 

Mrs. C. (at elevator, turning). Are you coming, Sallie ? 
Sallie. I was going down town, mother, to get some silk 
for that table cover. 



48 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Mrs. C. All right, dear. But hurry back ! 

[Exits into elevator. 

(Art looks longingly at Sallie as she starts to take her 
departure. ) 

Dave {observing Art's look). You'd better go, too, Art. 
Two heads are better than one. (Sallie exits through door 
in back; Art is about to folloiu her, when.) Just a minute, 
Art. What's this about Mrs. Jones-Brown coming ? 

Art {lightly). Our society leader's house is still in the 
hands of the decorators. Until finished she is to be a guest of 
the New Occidental, second floor front. 

Dave {confusedly). And- and ■ 

Art. Oh, yes, she's coming, too. Mrs. Jones-Brown and 
party, the message said, and (meaningly) I guess Madge is the 
party all right. Gee, 1 forgot — Sallie's waiting for me. 

{Hurried exit through door in back.) 

Dave {going slowly back of counter). So she's coming 
back. I wonder — no, what's the use — she's nothing to me — 
yes, she is, she's everything -if she only knew it. 

Enter Clay through door in back, carrying suit case which 
he puts down on counter. 

Clay (brisk and businesslike). Got anything to come up? 

Dave {abstractedly). Come up ? Oh, yes, you mean bag- 
gage. (Looks about counter and sees John's checks.) Here 
are two, I guess. (Hands them to him, then takes another 
check from pocket.) And you can bring mine up on the same 
load. 

Clay (taking checks). All right. Get them right up. 

(Turns to exit through door in back; almost at door when-) 

Dave. Er — how's business been? 

Clay. Fine. (Comes back toward Dave.) I'm going to 
pay everything I owe just as soon as I can. 

Dave. Oh, no hurry about me. I wasn't thinking of that. 
Did you hear the news ? 

Clay. Oh, yes, yes. You mean about Madge ? I just got 
word. They're coming in on number seven. 

Dave. I just thought I'd tell you in case you wanted to go 
home and spruce up a bit. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 49 

Clay (emphatically). No. I've got to tend to business. 

Dave. I guess you'll be glad to see her after all these 
months ? 

Clay. Yes, yes, I will. Of course things are changed. I 
ain't fixed the way I was, but Madge is the sort of girl who 
will understand and be glad. 

Dave {reflectively). Yes — she is that kind. 

Clay. I don't care so much about myself, but it's going to 
be hard on her. Madge always had everything, and now — well, 
it's a big change for a girl. 

Dave. Everything would have been all right if I hadn't 
butted in and spoiled things. 

Clay (shaking index finger). Stop right there. You saw 
your duty, and did it. If I'd seen things the right way a little 
sooner it would have been all right. 

Dave. Yes, but I can't help but think ■ 

Clay (interrupting him). Well, don't think any more about 
it. Besides, this ain't getting those trunks up. (Here Gertie 
enters from elevator and walks toward news stand in elaborate 
fashion ) So long. See you later. 

[Exits through door in back. 

Gertie (to Dave). Howdy do, Mr. Crane. Did you have 
a nice time in Chicago ? 

(Continues on her way to news stand.) 

Dave. Very fine, thank you. (Smilingly.) How has 
everything been in your department ? 

Gertie. Oh, just grand. I suppose there was a lot of ho- 
tel keepers there from New York City ? 

Dave. New York ? Oh, yes, they condescended to come. 

Gertie. Well, there ain't any of them got anything on you 
running a hotel. Of course, some of the shacks is sweller ; 
but when it comes to the management thing you can give them 
extra tires and cylinders, and beat 'em to it. 

Dave (smilingly). I'm afraid you flatter me, Miss Flye. I 
think my success can be partly attributed to your New York 
ideas. 

Gertie. Say, quit your kidding. The only New York ideas 
I lugged to this metropolis was about four pounds of fluffy curls 
and a winning smile. Of course not all the gents who buys 
magazines of me does it just because they hanker for the liter- 
achoor, but, believe me, you're the real little dynamo around 



50 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



this shop. Why, say, there ain't an anxious mother of a front 
family in this town but has got you down for a good prospect. 

Dave {pointedly'). I'm afraid you're more hopeful than I. 

Gertie. Oh, there's no use in pulling that modest violet by 
a mossy bank stuff with me. I lived in New York long enough 
to know that most men don't quote themselves below par if 
there's a chance to bull the market. Of course, I suppose the 
local skirts may seem a bit quiet alongside of the girls you met 
at college, but you'll be picking out a bungalow pretty timely 
just the same. 

Dave. I have the time and place all right, but I haven't 
got the girl. 

Gertie. Oh, say, now, didn't you ever lay orbs on a doll 
that was your idea of a breakfast table partner for life ? Of 
course, I don't want to be impertinent. 

Dave (picking up hat and going toward door in back). 
Yes, I have, if you put it that way. (Puts on hat.) If any- 
body comes in tell him I'll be back in a few minutes. 

[Exit through door in back. 

Gertie (solus). I wonder if he meant me — he ain't fea- 
turing nobody else that 1 can see. (Puts elbow on counter, 
chin in hands, and stares dreamily into space.) So it must be 
little me. 

Enter Art through door in back. He goes over to register, 
looks at Gertie, then closes register smartly. The noise 
brings Gertie out of her reverie. 

Art. Come out of it — come out of it ! 

Gertie. Say, what's your chief trouble? Can't you let me 
have a nice little dream without spoiling it all with that slap- 
stick comedy ? If it will interest you any I just had a proposal. 

Art (looking around room). I don't see anybody that 
handed it to you. 

Gertie. He just went out. 

Art (astonished). Dave ? Did he propose to you ? 

Gertie. Well, not out right flat. But actions speak louder 
than words. And I'm strong for him, too. 

Art. Oh, go way with that chatter. (Goes over to netvs 
stand.) Gertie, I don't want to put you on the skids, but 
there's just one girl for Dave — that's Madge Clay. Why, 
they've been pals since they were kids. They're a little out 
of tune just now, but it ain't going to last for long, believe me. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 5 1 

So if you've got any large ideas about Dave being gone on you 
you'd better let go of the flying-rings and come down to earth. 

Gertie {brokenly). Gee, I thought it was too good to be 
true. I suppose it's some tin horn drummer for mine {with 
forced gaiety), but I don't care, I had a nice dream while it 
lasted. 

Art {patting her hand). I'm sorry for you, Gertie. I 
know how I'd feel if I was to lose my one and only. (Gertie 
puts her handkerchief to her eyes. Sallie enters through door 
in back and discovers Art consoling Gertie, and in turn puts 
her handkerchief to her eyes. Art looks from Gertie to 
Sallie, and then back again.) Can you beat it? I guess I'm 
the nobby little consoler. I see where I have to give another 
squaring party for Sallie, all right. {Starts toward her.) 
Sallie, don't do that ! 

Sallie {taking handkerchief from eyes and stamping her 
foot). Don't speak to me. I saw it all. 

[Exits into elevator. 

Art {looking at door, then turning slowly to Gertie). 
There goes my one and only. 

Gertie {drying eyes with handkerchief). It's all my fault. 
Trust me to get everybody in bad. I suppose she thinks she 
caught us with the goods. But leave it to me. I'll square it if 
it takes an arm. {Hopefully.) And I wish you'd do the same 
for me. 

Art (kindly). It ain't no use, Gertie. There ain't a chance 
in the world. 

{Loud laughter is heard in buffet. ) 

Gertie. Some folks with a smile left anyway. 

(Art goes back of counter. Then enter Will, John and 
Sam., with arms linked.) 

Will ^{singing). "It's always fair, fellows, when good 
John j weather gets together." 

{They take c. stage and stop singing.) 

Sam. {laughing heartily). Well, sir, that was a good story 
you told — that one about "Why does a chicken cross the 
street ? " That's a brand new one on me. 

{All laugh.) 



52 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



Will (to Sam.). Say, did you ever hear this one? 

{Winks at John.) 
John. Oh, you'll laugh when you hear this one. 
{Slaps Sam. on back.) 

Will. Here it is : What gives more milk than a cow? 

John. Yes. This is a good one. ( Winks at Will.) This 
is immense ! 

Sam. Well, I guess I'll have to give it up. 

Will. Oh, this is funny. Now here's the answer. (Stops 
short.) Say, I used to know that one but I've forgotten it. 
But it's funny — you'd laugh if you'd heard it. 

Gertie (to Art). Get wise to the minstrel first part. 

Sam. But that isn't as funny as the one about the chicken. 

(Laughs loudly.) 

Enter Mrs. C., door r. 

Mrs. C. Samuel, dear, I want you if you have had your 
lemonade, dear. 

Sam. Yes, my dear. (Starts toward door r.) 
Will (slapping John on back). Lemonade. 

(They both laugh significantly. Mrs. C. and Sam. exeunt 
through door R.) 

John (to Will). Shake you for a cigar. 
Will. You're on ! 

( They go over to news stand, pick up dice box. Pantomime 
of dice game for cigars.) 

Enter Mrs. J.-B. and Madge, through door r. They are 
dressed in traveling costumes. Mrs. J.-B. is talking 
volubly. 

Mrs. J.-B. No, my dear, it doesn't strike me that there has 
been any remarkable transformation in the town. Of course, 
there are new buildings, but nothing to compare with what we 
saw in Europe. (At counter and looking about room.) Wh\ , 
this really justifies the descriptions that appeared in the local 
press. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 



53 



Art {impulsively). Why, howdy do, Madge ! 
{He puts out hand.) 

Madge (shaking his hand). How are you, Art ? It seems 
very good to see you again. 

Mrs. J.-B. How do you do, young man? I suppose you 
got my message ? Are our apartments in readiness ? 

Art. Yes, ma'am. Front ! 

{Bell-boy crosses to counter and takes key from Art. Mrs. 
J.-B. starts to cross to elevator.) 

Madge {at counter). You'll tell Sallie to come to my 
room, won't you, Art ? 

Art. I sure will. She's got a lot to tell you. (Madge 
follows Mrs. J.-B. Art, to bell-boy.) Boy, tell Miss Crane 
that Miss Clay Avould like to see her in Room 236. 

(Mrs. J.-B., Madge and bell-boy exeunt in elevator.) 

Will (at news stand). That sticks me. Always sticks me. 
John. Want satisfaction ? 
Will. Nix. I'm satisfied. 

{Both take cigar, which they light.) 

John. Much obliged, old man. Well, I've got an appoint- 
ment. I'll have to get along. See you later. 

{Crosses over to door in back and exits.) 

Will. Got an engagement myself. [Exits into buffet. 

Gertie (to Art). Who was the talky frail and her friend ? 

Art. Can't you guess? 

Gertie. Not her ? 

Art. Yep. That's another one and only. 

Gertie. Say, Art, on the level now, do you think she's got 
anything on me ? If it was up to you which prize would you 
draw ? 

Art. It's not up to me. I've drawn mine. (Art and 
Gertie sigh pensively. As if struck with the same idea they 
both start to exit ; she to door R., he to buffet. At doors both 
turn ajulface each other.) Why, where are you going ? 

Gertie. To my powder rag — woman's only solace in a case 
like this. And where are you hiking for ? 



54 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Art. I go to drown myself in yonder room. {Mock dra- 
matically.) Farewell, Gertie ; I shall return no more. 
Gertie. You'd better or you'll lose your job. 

{Push doors back and exeunt simultaneously ; she door r., 
he into buffet.') 

E titer Sallie and Madge from elevator. Sallie is talking 
volubly. 

Sallie. I suppose you noticed the office, dear, when you 
came in ; but we're so proud of it. You'll have to take the 
buffet for granted, of course, but they say it's a beauty. 

Madge. And has Dave really done all this ? 

Sallie. Every bit of it. He's simply opened people's 
eyes, and the Van Averys are green with jealousy. 

(Sallie and Madge have backs to door in back when Clay 
enters wheeling a truck with trunk on it. He lets trunk 
fall to the floor and stands mopping his brow. Both girls 
wheel about and face him at sound.) 

Madge. Father ! 

(She starts forward impulsively to embrace him.) 

Clay (waving her back). Hold on. Just a minute. ( Wipes 
face and hands vigorously with handkerchief. ) Now, Madge. 

(They embrace. Sallie comprehending the situation, turns 
and tiptoes cautiously from room through door R.) 

Madge. But, father, I don't understand. How— why — 
why are you doing this ? 

Clay. Why? Because I'm the baggage man. 

Madge. You, father — the baggage man? But you never 
wrote me that you were that you were doing this. I knew 
the money was gone but I never thought 

Clay (interrupting her). I didn't want to worry you, 
Madge — you were sick. It was the only thing left me. 

Madge. But I don't understand. Why are you — (looking 
around) why are you here — after what happened between you 
and Dave? 

Clay. That is just why I am here — after what happened 
between Dave and me. 

Madge. So Dave is responsible for this, too ? 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 55 

Clay. Yes, Dave is. 

Madge. But the Clarion and the Jay I. C. stock ? 
Surely 

Clay. I don't blame you for wondering. I don't blame 
anybody. Sometimes I wonder myself how it all happened. 
But it has happened. Madge, I'm glad you're here — because 
I can talk to you and I know you'll understand. When the 
Clarion came out about the Jay I. C. deal, I was madder than 
a hornet. I wanted to get my hands on somebody and hurt 
him — hard. But instead I had to fight and give up all the 
money I struggled for and schemed for to keep out of— well, 
the penitentiary. 

Madge (dismayed). Oh, father ! 

Clay (defiantly). Well, I might just as well tell you as to 
have you get it from somebody else. Then I got to thinking. 
I saw what people thought of me — and they showed me when 
I was down and out, every last soul — except one. I reckon 
things looked different. When you got sick that made me 
think some more. I saw I wasn't a big man, but a mighty 
mean one. There was only one man in Chester last January 
who would lift his finger to help me — and I didn't want to take 
it from him. But pride don't keep you long, so I took the 
money Dave offered me {proudly) as a loan, mind you. 

Madge. From Dave ? 

Clay. Yes, from Dave ! Maybe you don't know Dave as 
well as I do. When he wants anything he gets it. You can't 
resist him —at least, I couldn't. And there was a time when I 
was pretty hard to win over. 

Madge. To think that I was traveling in Europe in luxury 
and that you were doing this. 

Clay. Don't let that worry you none. I was sleeping 
nights, something I hadn't done for a long time before. I tell 
you, Madge, honest labor seems mighty good to me just now. 
Not that I was struck at first on smashing baggage for Dave. 
I knew he was all right, but people wagged their heads off. 
(Proudly.) They ain't doing so much talking now. 

Madge. But, father, at your age 

Clay (inter rupti?ig her). I don't intend to be doing it 
long. I'll have some men working for me pretty soon. It 
won't be baggage man, but a transfer company — but I ain't 
going to get it by floating no bonds. 

Madge. But the money you sent me ? I only took it be- 
cause you said you were doing so well. 



56 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Clay. I was. I've hauled a lot of trunks in Chester in the 
past six months. {Holds out hands.) Look at them hands. 
Don't they look like business? {Proudly.) Beside, I didn't 
want Mrs. Jones-Brown to be doing it all. 

Madge. But tell me, father, didn't you have Dave dis- 
charged from the Clarion ? 

Clay. You just bet I did— that just shows what the boy's 
made of. I reckon 1 thought like a lot of folks in this town, but 
Dave has showed us all. 

Madge (in thoughtful aside). Showed us all ! 

Clay. Well, that's the whole thing, Madge. I hope you 
ain't ashamed of me. 

Madge. Ashamed of you ? I am proud of you, father, 
proud of you. 

(Throws arms about him impulsively and kisses him.) 

Clay. I thought my little girl would understand. {As if 
anxious to dismiss the subject.) But this ain't business. I've 
got to get back to the depot. ( Turns on speech and picks up 
truck.) I'll call round after business hours and you can tell 
me all about Europe. (Goes toward door in back. Enter 
Dave, through door in back.) Here's the young man I was 
talking to you about. (Puts one hand on Dave's shoulder and 
pushes him gently toward Madge.) Now go ahead, say 
howdy do to each other — and maybe something else. 

[Exits, with truck, through door in back. 

(Dave removes hat and advances a couple of steps tozvard 
Madge, as if uncertain of his reception. At speech of 
Clay, Madge drops her eyes in confusion and half turns 
away. Dave is fust about to speak when enter Mrs. J.-B.) 

Mrs. J.-B. Oh, here you are, my dear. (Dave showing 
annoyance at interruption, turns on heel and goes back of 
counter.) I fancied you had quite deserted me. (Goes over 
to counter with baggage checks in hand.) Young man, will 
you have these brought up as expeditiously as possible ? I 
trust no mishaps will occur in transmission. I always find bag- 
gage men in small towns abandonedly careless -not at all the 
way it is in Europe. 

Dave (beaming on her). We have the exception to prove 
the rule, Mrs. Jones-Brown. 

Mrs. J.-B. Intelligence of the most gratifying proportions, 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 57 

I assure you. Come, Madge, I have a new book of poems I 
want you to read to me — something on the order of Kipling, 
only more refined. (They both exeunt into elevator.} 

Dave (staring after them). There's a neat little example 
of a good-natured woman smothered by her vocabulary. And 
as a chaperon for Madge I don't fancy the way she times her 
entrances. No use making my work any harder in that direc- 
tion. (Art enters from buffet, slamming door behind him. 
With hands thrust deep in pockets he walks across the stage 
dejectedly to door in back, and, leaning against it, stares out 
moodily, .) What's the trouble, and why the dejection? 

Art (turning and coming over to counter). Say, I want to 
ask you something. Do you know anything about love? 

Dave {lightly). If I wasn't a rank amateur, my dear Arthur, 
I wouldn't be here talking with you. 

Art. Wrong gender, eh ? No, but this is a very serious 
matter. 

Dave. Love generally is, I believe. 

Art. Oh, come now, can't you help a fellow out? I'm in 
trouble. 

Dave. So am I. Any further particulars ? 

Art. Oh, with Sallie, of course. 

(Sallie enters from door r., unnoticed by Art.) 

Dave. Why, certainly I'll help you. 

{Picks up hat from counter and starts toward door in back.) 

Art. That's a fine way to do it — leaving me here alone. 
Dave. Not exactly. (Nods head toward Sallie.) Take 
a look. [Exits through door in back. 

(Sallie starts to go on discovering Art, but he calls to her 
in a severe voice.) 

Art (simulating anger). Young woman, come here ! 
Sallie (turning around in astonishment). Why — why 



Art (still pretending to be angry). Come here, I say. I 
want to know what you mean by (Sallie starts to in- 
terrupt him.) Don't speak, don't dare to interrupt me until I 
have finished. I want to know why you don't speak to me. 
What have I done that you dare to treat me as a stranger, in- 
stead of one who has toiled and struggled as I have to make 
you a happy — er— er— home ? 



58 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

Sallie. Why, Art Wimpel, what can you 

Art (mock dramatically'). Silence ! My wrongs cry for 
vengeance. If you are acting thus that our engagement may 
be a thing of the dead gone past why not tell me ? Speak now 
and our plighted troth is over. But why resort to subterfuge 
after subterfuge (splendid word that) ! But I see you are silent. 
Does your guilt bind your tongue? Why don't you say some- 
thing in your own defense ? 

Sallie (gaspingly). Speak? Goodness gracious, you never 
gave me a chance. 

Art. Oh, woman, woman, you have broken my heart ! 

Sallie. I never did, Art Wimpel. Now you tell me some- 
thing : how dare you flirt with Gertie ; and twice in one day, 
too? 

Art. I wasn't flirting one little speck. I was merely giving 
first aid to an injured heart. Gertie was dead in love with 
Dave, and when I told her about Madge she took the count. 
And just as I was bringing her to, you came in. If you don't 
believe me, ask Gertie. 

Sallie. Art Wimpel, is that really the throw-salt-over- your- 
left-shoulder truth ? 

Art. Honest Injun — cross my heart ! 

Sallie. Then I forgive you, Art. 

Art. I want more than that. I want to know when you 
intend to marry me. I've taken enough chances on losing you 
already. 

Sallie. How would on or after October 1st, date to be set- 
tled by party of the first part, suit you ? 

Enter Gertie through door r. 

Art. Oh, Sallie ! 

Sallie. Oh, Art ! (They embrace rapturously.) 

Gertie (crossing over to back of news stand). Oh, fudge ! 

Art. Well, it's all patched up, Miss Flye. We're to be 
married the first of October. You're invited to bring your 
presents — I mean, to be present at the gay doings. 

Gertie (sincerely). And I — I wish you all kinds of luck. 

Sallie. But, Art, I forgot — we haven't asked mother. 

Art. Easiest thing in the world. Come on, we'll go right 
now. (To Gertie.) Just keep an eye on my department, 
will you, while we ask mother ? 

Gertie. Both eyes, all the time. Run along and play. 
(They exeunt through door r. Enter J ohn from door in back. 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 59 

and Will from buffet. Will shows just the slightest signs of 
unsteadiness. They cross to cigar stand. Will takes coin 
from pocket and puts it down on case. Gertie to Will.) 
What's your special craving ? 

Will. Nothing particular. Just thought I'd like to buy 
something from you. {Turns and discovers John for the first 
time.) Oh, hello ! How many apples have you sold now — I 
mean pairs? 

John. Coming to look you over I think you've been hitting 
the high places. You need a good strong-armed chaperon. 
Now what do you mean by such conduct ? 

Will. Nothing a-tall, nothing a-tall. But I can't remem- 
ber whether I promised my wife to be home at twelve and take 
one drink, or be home at one and take twelve drinks. 

John. Well, I guess you've had your share anyway. Come 
on up to the room. We just got time for a little game of 
pinochle before supper. 

(They link arms and cross stage, Will singing, "It's always 
fair, fellows, when good weather gets together" ; then 
exeunt into elevator.} 

Enter Dave through street door. Goes over back of counter. 

Dave. Anybody here while I was gone ? 
Gertie. Nobody but Sallie and Art. Handed me a card 
to their wedding. 

Dave (wondering). Their wedding ? 

Gertie. Yep, they're down on the cards for October. 

Dave {laughing). Art must have gotten his new suit at last. 

Enter Madge from elevator. She crosses to news stand. 

Madge {to Gertie). Have you this month's Scribner's ? 
Gertie. Yes, ma'am. 

(Dave meanwhile has kept his eyes o?i Madge from time of 
entraiice. Gertie searches about for magazine, finds it, 
and hands it to Madge, who pays her. Gertie evinces 
her curiosity by glancing, whenever opportunity allows, 
from Madge to Dave, and back again. Madge picks up 
magazine and starts toward elevator. Dave comes 
around from back of elevator.') 

Dave. Just a moment, Madge. 



60 THE COLLEGE CHAP 

(Madge stops, and Gertie, comprehending the situation, 
crosses over to door in bach.) 

Gertie (at door in back). Do you care if I run down and 
see if New York won to-day ? (They pay no attention. After 
slight pause, aside, heartily and referring to Dave.) Gee, I 
hope he wins. [Exits through door in back. 

Dave. Madge, you don't know how good it is to see you 
back again. (Madge lets her gaze fall to the magazine.) It 
seems like a long, long time since you went away. 

Madge (nervously toying with magazine). Yes, it has been 
long. 

Dave. I don't suppose it seemed so to you, seeing new 
places and people, but here in Chester — well, you understand 
what I mean. 

Madge (roguishly). Are you sure I do? 

Dave. I'm going to make sure — right now. Madge, do 
you remember that night I came back from college? As I look 
back now I can see I was a pretty sad affair; but I didn't know 
it then — until you told me. You remember you said that it 
was just the beginning, that it was what I did then that was 
going to count. Sometimes at first I used to think, " Oh, 
what's the use? " Then I could see you standing in that dingy 
old office, and I would buckle down to work again. 

Madge (softly). Yes, Dave. 

Dave. And sometimes when I was reading proof the type 
would blur before my eyes and I would see you, smiling at me 
the way you did before I went to college. Madge, I don't 
know why I am saying all this — I'm just trying to tell you that 
I love you, love you more than anything in the world, and that 
I want you to be my wife. Won't you say " yes " ? 

Madge {softly, and looking up at him). Yes, Dave. 

Dave (smiling). And now do you know what I'm going 
to do? I am going to crush you — (putting ar?ns around her) 
crush you just like this ! 



CURTAIN 



New Plays 



THE COLONELS MAID 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By C. Leona Dalrymple 

Author of "The Time of His Life,' "The Land of Night ," etc. 

Six males, three females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. 
Plays a full evening. An exceptionally bright and amusing comedy, full 
of action ; all the parts good. Capital Chinese low comedy part ; two 
first-class old men. This is a very exceptional piece and can be strongly 
recommended. Price, 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 
Colonel Robert Rudd, a widower of \ 

North Carolina I norially antagonistic. 

Colonel Richard Byrd, a widower J A 

of South Carolina J 

M arjorie Byrd | mt sq aniagonistic as t j uir respective fathers. 

Mrs. J. John Carroll, a widow, and Colonel Sudd's sister- 
in-law. 
Julia Carroll, her daughter. 

Ned Graydon, a young gentleman of exceedingly faulty memory. 
Mr, James Baskom, Colonel Rudd* s lawyer. 

Ching-ah-ling, the Chinese cook, a bit impertinent but by far the 
most important individual in the cast. 
SYNOPSIS 
Act I.— Early morning in the kitchen of the Rudd bachelor 
establishment. 

Act II. — The Rudd library, five days later. 
Act III. — The same. Evening of the same day. 

BREAKING THE ENGAGEMENT 

A Farce in One Act 

By W. C. Parker 

Two males, one female. Costumes, modern ; scene, an interior. Plays 

twenty minutes. A quick playing little piece suitable for vaudeville use. 

Very bright and snappy and strongly recommended. 

Price, 75 cents 

A PAPER MATCH 

A Farce in One Act 
By E. W. Burt, M. D. 
Two males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scene, an interior. Plays 
thirty-five minutes. Four rustic characters, all good. The heroine ad- 
vertises for a husband and gets her aunt's old beau to their mutual horror. 
Very funny, easy and effective. Price, ij cents 



New Plays 



THE SAWDUST OUEEN 

A Comedy Drama in Three Acts 

By Dana J. Stevens 

Author of "Plain People," "Old Acre Folk," etc. 

Six males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. 

Plays a full evening. A play of circus life, very picturesque and effective 

and not difficult to get up. Unusually rich in character parts and comedy. 

Soubiette lead ; ladies' parts especially strong. Can be recommended. 

Free for amateur performance. Price, 25 cents. 

CHARACTERS 



T, V 



Deacon Matthew Sterling. 

Ned Sterling, his son. 

Miss Prudence Prue, 

Miss Patricia Prossitt, \ three maiden ladies, his cousins. 

Miss Patience Prouty, 

Mr. Silas Hankum, his solicitor. 

Adanirum George Washington Hobbes, proprietor of "The 

Great Forever Circus. ' ' 
Toney O'Hara, an old clown. 

The Herr Professor, acrobat and flying trapeze man. 
Hulda Schwartz, strong lady and snake charmer. 
Starlight, the sawdust queen. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Inside the dressing tent of "The Great Forever 
Circus." 

Act II — Three days later. The living room in the Sterling 
homestead. 

Act IH. — Several days later. Inside the dressing tent again. 

THE SUMMERVILLE BAZAR 

An Entertainment in One Act 

By Frank Tows lee 
Twenty-one males, thirty-one females are called for, but this number 
can be greatly reduced by " doubling " or by curtailing the length of the 
entertainment. No scenery required ; costumes, modern. Plays about an 
hour with specialties introduced when called for. This is a humorous 
picture of a church sale, depending upon its characters and incidents, 
which are home thrusts in almost any community, for its success. It ends 
with a sale by auction which may be made a real one, if desired, to actu- 
ally end up a fair. This entertainment will serve as an admirable frame 
for a vaudeville entertainment, being designed to introduce songs, dances 
or recitations at intervals in its action, but may be played wholly without 
them, as a straight entertainment, if it is preferred. Price, 25 cents. 



Novelties 



HOW THE CLUB WAS FORMED 

An Entertainment in Three Scenes 

By Mrs. O. W. Gleason 

Author of "How the Story Grew," "A Modern 

Sewing Society" etc. 

Eighteen females. Costumes modern ; scenery unimportant. Plays 
one and a half hours. A humorous skit on the Woman's Club suited far 
performance by either young or middle-aged women. Full of points and 
chances for local hits and thus a sure laugh-maker. Parts well dis- 
tributed; can be recommended. 

Price, if cents 

A MOTHERS' MEETING 

An Entertainment in One Scene 

By Arlo Bates 

Author of "A Business Meeting" "A Gentle Jury" "An 

Interrupted Proposal" "Her Deaf Ear " etc. 

Ten females. Costumes modern ; scenery unnecessary. Plays thirty 
minutes. A good-humored and amusing satire of this institution suited 
for performance by middle-aged as well as young ladies. Can be made 
very amusing by the introduction of local points, as in all such entertain- 
ments. All the parts are good and of nearly equal opportunity. Well 
recommended. 

Price, if cents 

MAIDS OF ALL NATIONS 

An Entertainment in One Scene 
By Maude Burbank 

Author of f( A Pan of Fudge," etc. 

Fifteen females, one male. Costumes of the nations; scene, the usual 
tableau arrangements. A pleasant variation of the " Bachelor's Reverie " 
introducing fifteen pretty girls in the costumes of as many nations. Plays 
thirty minutes. Recommended for its simplicity and picturesqueness. Its 
one male character may speak or not, as preferred, and may be played by 
a girl if desired. 

Price, if cents 



AUG T 19H 



New Entertainments 
OUR CHURCH FAIR 

A Farcical Entertainment in Two Acts 

By Jessie A. Kelley 
Twelve females. Costumes modern ; scenery unimportant. Plays at 
hour and a quarter. A humorous picture of the planning of the annuaS 
church fair by the ladies of the sewing circle. Full of local hits and 
general human nature, and a sure laugh-producer in any community 
Can be recommended. 

Price, 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 

Mrs. Roberts, who wants to be Mrs. Lawson, plump. 

president. Mrs. Brown, anxious to get new 

Mrs. Henry, young, giddy , church attendants. 

fond of novels. Mrs. Addison, very inquisitive. 

Mrs. Jackson, the president of Mrs. Ridgely, sensitive. 

the society. Mrs. Otis, on the dinner com* 

Mrs. Brett, on the dinner com- mittee. 

mittee. Mrs. Thompson, decidedly clcse. 

Mrs. Lewis, the minister's wife. Mrs. Drew, just married* 

THE RIVAL CHOIRS 

An Entertainment in One Scene 
By Sherman F. Johnson 
Seven males, four females. Costumes eccentric ; scenery unimportant 
Plays one hour. A novelty in musical entertainments, introducing the 
old choir and the new in competition. A novel setting for a concert, 
offering an interesting contrast between the old music and the new. Lots 
of incidental fun, character and human nature. Sure to please. Origi* 
ually produced in Meriden, Conn. 

Price, 25 cents 

A THIEF IN THE HOUSE 

A Comedy in One Act 

By R. M. Robinson 
Six males, one playing a female character (colored). Costumes modern 
scenery, an interior. Plays forty-five minutes. A first-class play for malt 
characters only, of strong dramatic interest with plenty of comedy. A play 
that can be recommended, in spite of its lack of female characters, to anj 
ludience. 

Price, 2J cents 



a. &. $roero'0 Paps 



THE MAGISTRATE Farce In Three Acts. Twelve males, four 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, all 
interior. Plays two hours and a half. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSM1TB £.™ ma , in JT A f 

Ei^ males, five females. 
Costumes, modern ; scenery, all interiors PL* ys a full evening. 

THF PROFI IfiATF I >la y mFour - A - c t' 8 - ^even males, five females. 
^ Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; 

costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THE SCHOOLMISTRESS Orcein Three Acts Nine males, seven 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, 
three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY ^r*£L. E r 

tumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

SWFFT I A YFNRFR Comed y in Three Acts. Seven males, four 
k?TTL,L,l l^lLlll/LIY femaleg> Scene, a single interior; costumes, 

modern. Plays a„full evening. 

THF TI1WFS Comed y ^ Four Acts. Six males, seven females. 
Scene, a single interior ; costumes, modern, Plays a 
full evening. 

THF WFAKFR SFX Comed y ^ Th™ 6 Acts. Eight males, eight 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two 
Interiors. Plays a full evening. 

A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE ££*£ ££/£«£ 

modern ; scene, a single Interior. Plays a full evening: 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
AUG 7 I 



m ti ■■■ ■■ ■ ■ in t of price by 

l Company 



on, Massachusetts 




015 910 049 2 

ttije ^tlltam 2&ar»u «/vm*mu 
of Paps 

AS YOII I IKF IT Comed y in Flve Acts - Thirteen males, four 
J\J lvU A<ilil« II females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, va- 
ried. Plays a full evening. 

CAMII IF E >rania in Five Acts. Mine males, five females. Cos- 
vAiTlH^lvL tunies, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. 

INflOMAP P^ a y iu Tive Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
inilUlTlAIV Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 



MARY STUART HgftSSS* 



LCts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
supernumeraries. Costumes, of the 
period , scenery, varied and elaborate. Plays a full evening. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE SSffiSSSaffl: SB; 

picturesque ; scenery varied. Plays a full evening. 

RICHFI IFI1 ^ la y in Five Act s. Fifteen males, two females. Scen- 
SXlvllLL.lLU er y elaborate ; costumes of the period. Plays a full 
evening. 

THF ttlVAI S Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. 
1 111* HI T l\LiJ Scenery varied ; costumes of the period. Plays a 
full evening. 

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 23S£fiL£"fcJ2£r 

ried ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. 

TWELFTH NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL 2ST&S FIye 



three females, 
full evening. 



Acts. Ten males, 
Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, varied. Plays a 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Salter $^ Rafter & Company 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



•• 4, PARKHIU. & SO,, PRINTERS. BOSTON. II S 



